the hunt

I'm on a berry hunt, a search for treasure. Some are shy and hide under heart-shaped leaves, while some are  bravely loud: pick me, pick me. These strawberries are precious jewels and I am the scavenger.

But I've always got to hunt for the good amongst the bad. When the walls are closing in and breathing comes difficult, I must fumble for the strings to pull a smile on my face. If I ever were to give up the search, I'd be finished. The hunt shall go on.

The next time I'm almost broken, heaving by the light of the window, I'll hunt for hope. When I'm lying flat beneath the hospital's dotted ceiling tiles (sixty-six holes per square) and fluorescent lights, I'll hunt for my dreams, plans, and goals. Just like looking for berries in our backyard jungle. Simple as that.