Field Notes, Vol. 19 (Lossless)

Thick clouds block the sun. Insulate the world in stifling breath. Relentless green stretches ahead - holds the gaze - while the feet scoot and crunch in crashing rhythm. Invisible silken threads span the bridge of the nose, the backs of both hands, the left elbow. Now cross the throat.

Here the road climbs again into the embankment of a hill that sits on this mountain's wide back. Today's ridge strewn with dull gray-green stone. Fallen trees and dusty leaves share the floor with blackberry brambles and sweet-smelling shrubs.

A moment stopped and hard-breathing brings sweat from brow to chin. The reflex to hack and spit a gnat to the earth.

In the muggy early summer the mind wanders to air-conditioned, excessive and networked comforts. Thoughts of futility and doubt; prospects of purposelessness; the cosmic vastness against which we are comically small. Thoughts disquieting yet long-held and hardwired. Seldom questioned.

Raindrops come heavy now. Strike deeper than the hairs and pores they find. Hints of light emerge from countless droplets. Shining leaves reach beyond sight into the forest. A useless memory practically forgotten, socially unfit.

A forked and fallen branch still leans on its living oaken body. Beneath boot, scores of springtails. The self a temporary participant of the scurry.

Nothing here to learn or lament. Nothing yet lost.

Lossless, 6/7/26