White Biocentrism

My soul and I hold hands, carefree stroll a familiar dirt road;
we hear squirrels scritch-scratch an oak, see a toad
plop into a leaf-logged stream, sniff peppermint stems, nibble evergreen
needles, whistle whatever as we lose socks and shoes, lean
on a 'shroom-stubbled stump for a don't-let-go hug and wish-wild smile
both bear-trapped in my mind as is my sap-slow style

so open eyes can fantasize sailing waist-high grass wavy in playful wind--
when you unlock life, let a significant other in
heartbeats pine-cone everything, beam like light-laced suns
rivering love to and from dream-slivered cloud to dust just because, ones
pair up, embrace face-to-face under minxy midnight's driftwood bliss
'til nudged home to live like a poem, time-stressed lines refined by a moon-mingled kiss.