Wisdom of the Wildwood
Far under the deep forest canopy,
Within the bright haze of the morning mist.
I dream of the light that I cannot see,
As sunbeam and forest begin their tryst.
Souls of the deep woods and wraiths of the trees,
Move through the greenwood as wistful dark dreams.
Arboreal titans bend with a breeze,
That ruffles their coverlet with its streams.
With daunted wonder, at reverent pace,
I silently tread the cathedral floor;
And whispering stillness imparts its grace,
As trees share memories of brake and moor.
Woodland and grove only slowly impart,
The ancient wisdom of the wildwood's heart.
I have always loved long, slow walks through the green peace of the deep woods.