Arrival in Oregon

An ewok forest lined with ferns and light, moss grows green like fluorescent scabs. Canon ball river rocks freckled like the moon, a fairytale stream, goliath in strength but to touch would wake beauty asleep. Face burnt red like the fresh picked plum squashed by pear while caught in a love triangle with apricot. Pine trees upright like crayons waiting to color the sky. Finally able to answer the nagging question, "where am I," I am here.