Dry
I am moving. It is only 7 AM but I am struck by how dry the pine woods seem to be. I crunch the falling November leaves. Spiders, on outstretched webs block the trail. A snake, likely a moccasin, stops, observes me, and then disappears into the dry, still, ferns. The rest of the day is like that. The rest of the day is like that. I continue to move along a little bit monotonously. And then the day is done as I look for a warm bed and a hot meal once again.
Dry