she unzipped the tent and stood,
outstretching her arms,
breathing in the morning

looking out at the expanse of the glassy, mirrored water,
at the billowing greens blanketing the mountainous terrain,
at the mist rising to greet the cerulean sky,
she felt almost frivolous

the sweet tang of wild bergamot skipped along the breeze,
but it was the smell of the lake water that enveloped her,
a rich, damp scent that settled into her clothes and her hair and stayed there,
stitched to her with muddy thread

here, she was wild,