I see the hidden paths.
I hear the plants and animals.
I feel the abundant life.
A cool other world --
A mansion of living verdance.
The smell of wildflowers
Lingers in my nose.
The crackle of a fallen leaf
Sounds beneath my booted foot.
A meandering dirt trail
Leads to a forest stream:
Now but a small, gurgling trickle,
Clear as quartz crystal,
Fresh as morning dew atop
A pristine mountain.
Small fish dart among
Moss-covered, weathered rocks.
The soft calling of a dove
Echoes among the trees,
Then all is quiet again.
Suddenly a cool breeze,
An afflatus from Nature,
Brushes my face and
Awakens my senses
Not only to the air itself
But to an element filled with
A symphony of sensation:
Flowers blooming,
Grasses drying,
Animals roaming --
The gift of all that makes
This sylvan glade
The sacred haunt that it is:
Hypnotizing,
Refreshing,
Inspiring,
All at once.
The quiet voice of the woodlands
Invites me to share its secrets.
sjk