Little Valleys

The tree had fallen
long before he knew of it,
and in that unlikely rainforest
it lay decomposing;
enriching the soil
that once sustained it
He removed it's bark gently
Peeling it back piece by piece
and hoping to catch a glimpse
of what it might harbor
The flesh of the tree was now
waterlogged and rotting
but still somehow elegant
He'd plunge his hands in,
and the fine dust of it
came at once to occupy
the microscopic valleys
of his fingertips