Morning, with rain in the sky, and the forest subtly brooding, and me feeling no bigger than a pea-bug between the roots of my fir.

The trees seem so much bigger than me, so much stronger in life, prowling silent around.

I seem to feel them moving and thinking and prowling, and they overwhelm me.

Ah, well, the only thing is to give way to them.
It is the edge of the Black Forest--sometimes the Rhine far off, on its Rhine plain, like a bit of magnesium ribbon.

But not to-day.
To-day only trees, and leaves, and vegetable presences.