Walking along the trail
pondering those who walked before,
awed at the beauty of the trees,
the sound of a woodpecker,
nature’s palate of colors spread
across her vast canvas.
Were they simply surviving
too busy to notice?
Squirrel scurrying across the trail
makes me jump;
my ancestors would have
brought it home as dinner.
It’s time for G-Man’s Friday Flash 55. Write a story in exactly 55 words, tell Mr. Know-It-All, and visit others.