PANaturalist View

I walked through the woods with you.The fog, unsettled, lifted us willingly

above the mountains before us.It was stillness we sought, and confusion.

We were tired of figuring out forso long and waned to be astounded.

We’d heard the mountain view promised that,but there was fog to see in the meantime.

Fog that thickened and absorbed, actedlike a sponge to our aching, liquid,

unended thoughts. Not unended for wantof trying, but for lack of knowing everything,

out greatest regret.We told ourselves we had years to understand

the world, to move to new places, studyoffspring of our own, hoping that the sametender aching jealousy would moan out of

our veins in later days. We knewour love was perfect - is perfect - and fought

against time and trends and fatalist predictionsthat our mountains, our firm footholds, would remain

after the fog of ournonexperience left us an accurate,

a naturalist point of view.

Abigail PattersonCreative/Technical Writer

achall76@students.kennesaw.eduforensicfiction.tumblr.com

678.357.2378