I went to the forest for lunch, but somewhere between the band of conifers and the meadows where deer grazed, I lost myself to its natural allure and became forgetful. Abandoning my original route and straying from the overgrown path, I wandered deeper into the labyrinthine grove. The forest became thicker as I walked, and yet it also became brighter, as if the green and leafy canopy actually radiated a soft, diffused glow.

I found a solid, gnarled trunk to join me for lunch. As I leaned against it, I watched the sun shimmer, illuminating bars of dust through the air. I gazed at the brook, little maelstroms and whirlpools foaming between smooth stones. The water murmured, and as rays of sunlight hit its surface, they refracted into tiny scintilla that danced upon clay and rock.

Casting my eyes up high, I saw a roof of teal leaves tinted with mild sunbeams, the rays diminished from their midday force. Then the trees had been smote with sun fire, threatening to implode under the stifling heat. But now, as the sun bowed, the trees repaired their taut leaves and seemed to relax, inhaling and exhaling crepuscular breaths into the fragrant air. I fell asleep inside a hollowed-out oak, an embryo in the womb of its mother.