My EE poem

The Invisible Guest

A forest of ferns,

everyday ordinary ferns,

to me.

A launchpad to others.

To some a means for existence,

impossible to walk through

without brushing at least one.

I wonder,

have I been brushed by another,

or maybe even caught.

I could search and search

and still not find this invisible passenger,

this invisible threat.

I wonder,

has something found me?