Soft and Green

I'm sitting on the veranda over looking the rain forest just in front of me. It is still, early. I could reach out and touch the trees between my finger tips. It is beautiful, a cacophony of green. The frogs, I think, are croaking. There is a lot of bug noise anyway, over yonder... like ringing bells. The birds are singing. They are, kind of, chattering like monkeys, actually. Some birds call with a beautiful whistle, some squeak, some squark, some sound like a drop of water falling. I'm waiting for the giant lizard thing to crawl onto the veranda and demand her maggots, with trepidation. Nobody else is awake. Will she eat me? It is beautiful here. Lush. Remote. Wet in the air. Vividly green. It smells like a river bank. Mossy tree roots, dissolving. Bracken. A carpet of leaves and twigs, damp, soft, like wool slippers. There is mist on the furthest mountain tops, floating above the tree tops.