Thinking Poem by Ben Coomer

a light fog on a cloudy day
the moss softens the round bolder for my back and feet
i lay here thinking
the cold morning air numbs my skin
i wait for an answer
the giant evergreens around me
fill the air with the smell of christmas
i lay here thinking
i know if i wait long enough an answer will come
rain begins to dampen my face
it begins to soak my clothes
but my answer has not come
so i lay here thinking
the rain turns the dirt to mud
and tiny streams begin to form
a hint of a smile crosses over my face
as i lay here thinking