The sun’s rays filter down through
the forest canopy, morning light
dances through the branches
of sugar maples and American beeches.
Leaves rustle in the whispering breeze
as I step with quiet purpose,
pausing to notice the choral song
of black-capped chickadees echoing
in the wind as they flit about their day.
The murmur of the babbling
brook calls out to the weary
of heart, to those thirsty for revival,
its refreshing waters meandering
through this sacred woodland. It leads
to a colonnade of birch trees bowing
in reverence, their papery skin
exuding wisdom. Heavy-laden, I sink
to bended knee in full surrender.
The earthy aroma of the forest
floor mixes with the resinous
scent of pine, and my spirit surges
with relief, breathing in the divine
peace that Mother Nature promptly
provides. There is a tranquility
in this arboreal temple that transcends
human understanding; it is a balm
for the souls of the broken.
Whispers in the Wind
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