in the woods...

This is what my chest looks like if you open it up:
Trees like paintbrushes dabbing a sky of coarse fibers,
Fish jumping to loosen their eggs or something,
Water that plays the world back to itself,
Birds singing to each other just trying to relate,
And a lumberjack emptying his bowels behind a bush.
It's not so beautiful if you've seen it a million times;
You'd probably close me back up,
Remove your gloves, wash your hands, and call it a day.