concrete jungle

i do not see what is in front of me.
birds call in the air and
the pages of my book are
ruffled by the chill of autumn air
but i am in another universe,
unseeing eyes staring.

i am imagining
the peace of forest, the harsh
loamy smell of leaves from seasons past,
watching squirrels and rabbits
the scent of pine and earth
and leaves crunching beneath me
when i shift my weight.

[never mind my concrete surroundings
the sounds of traffic
from the nearby highway]

in my world, trees rule the
earth and within their branches,
i am melding into bird calls
and rustling leaves, and the
gentle noise of forest creatures who
scamper and live under roots
and in burrows under logs.