Pine

When I close my eyes I see a cold pine forest. Not too cold, more the sort of cold that breezes in between trees, tall trees that reach into the dark blue sky and gather at pointed tips as if attracted to one another. The ground in the clearing is dry and a deep breath tastes of pine sap and teal needles.

I keep seeing this when I close my eyes. I’ve been looking for it each time, hoping to enter that calm, chilly woods and stay in it as long as my waking dream will allow. It’s a memory from childhood grown into what I will need to find in my future.