Inevitable Stumble

Centimeter high

pungent yellow ovals

roasting on the forest floor,

blanketing a narrow single track

Up and up,

bays and oaks climb

provide air conditioning

where there is none in the East Bay.

One foot in front of the other,

flushed face leaping an incline

intoxicating aromas,

fall in July scatterings

distract from the slippery floor.

An angry root jumps out,

seizing my foot with all its might

my arms and legs take flight

thankfully not over the side.

Palms, hips and knees

slide into gravel,

powdery brown dust

poofs upwards

Many a time, a root hath tried

to bring me down from my frolick, 

I always stumbled back onto my feet 

but this root had conviction

using its depth to yank me down

Lying flat,

the sting sets in