The woods are calling to me,
They know that I will respond.
So I tread the path to my stone cabin,
On the bank of a lost creek pond.
The forest exhales the breath of life,
As it caresses the passing breeze.
Tenderly cuddling the zephyr,
In every shade and size of leaves.
It is under those giant shadows,
Where Nature’s energies quietly flow.
There I come face to face with myself,
In conversation with my searching soul.
The moss and ferns whisper my name,
Wild daisies twirl their golden heads
Butterflies are beginning to emerge,
From the womb of their birthing beds.
The years have taken and given,
None have ever diminished these friends.
Where the dawn and twilight of living,
For all of us begins and ends.
Copyright: 2008 Donald Harbour
My gifted friend, your words take me to the woods at the centre of Self. Thanks