

Per la foresta mi aggiro, guardingo,
invisibile come un fantasma,
guardando e non toccando,
evitando ogni rumore superfluo,
solo pensando e ascoltando
l’estasiante concerto brulicante;
respirando e camminando
in punta di piedi, quasi scivolando,
tra il frusciò delle foglie cadute
e il crepitio dei rametti secchi.
L’erba soffice e vellutata
che mi solletica le gambe,
la ghiaia scricchiolante
che punzecchia le piante.
Inspirando a pieni polmoni
l’aria fresca, traboccante ossigeno,
quel profumo inebriante
del terriccio umido
e delle foglie madide
di rugiada del mattino:
che strega i sensi,
che rilassa i nervi,
che rischiara l’umore,
che rasserena il cuore,
che riconnette con il mondo interiore.
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