Taken by author.

Whispers

On that day, the chill hung low

My body enveloped by a glorious mist

stood captured by the towering presence

of the white pines.

A soft ruffle through the leaves

like the sound of distant bells

that caress the air,

Or the soft rustling of the feathered birds

that fly carefree through the wind.

Water in the distance

babbling through the earth

allowed to flow without restriction.

The trees assert their deep presence

with the gentle watchful gaze

of a wise old woman who’s weathered

many seasons.

Almost humored by the brashness of our human ways.