It was unnaturally still in the woods that day,
no fellow hikers crashing along the trail,
no birds chirping love songs and war cries,
no squirrels scurrying up the grey bark of a tree.
The cloud hung low among the trees and the vegetation,
masking the horizon
softening all the edges,
inviting me into the silver mist.
If I had heeded its call,
I would have been drawn deeper and deeper
to the blurred horizon.
I would have vanished along with the haze
when the sun peeked through the canopy of leaves,
warming the tender green plants rising to meet it.