Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Evening In The Forest

Come to the forest with me. On the hillside is the remains of a watercourse now dry; we can walk the staircase of stones to the top, or listen to the droplets of hidden water still falling near the bottom. The dry leaves of autumn crunch beneath our feet. The smells of life, death and renewal are thick in the air like perfume or mist. Here is serenity; the fogs begin here, weaving their shrouds between the treetrunks like ghosts. The sunsets end here, burning the leaves in molten fire. Between the rising of the moon and the setting of the sun the birds cry their mourning over the death of another day. In this still time, as the lowering sun sends its bars of reddened light between the tree trunks, come to the forest with me. Breathe in the exhalation of the plants and trees. Feel the richness of the leaves and moss beneath your feet. Cease to think and to plan and begin to simply be. Come, be here in the forest with me.

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