Mary Beth Trautwein

I am walking out from a steep sloped forest of redwoods and western hazelnut trees. I steady myself on the trunks and low branches of the younger trees and pick my way around the poison oak as a small meadow emerges. I shut my eyes and breathe in the scented air but the grey morning light has obscured the marshy ground beneath my feet. I sink in up to my hips and cannot get out. I struggle for a while but the plants around me yield to my weight. Hours pass, gravity takes over, the vernal pool consumes me.