Wind blows,
Birds sing,
Leaves sway,
The world is at peace,
In this one small moment in time,
As the sunlight dances in bright patters on the fading green,
And time stops,
As the world slows,
And breaths,
Looking around,
And knowing for the first time in decades that all is not lost.
She sees it in the smiles of the five girls, joined hand-in-hand around the large oak tree,
Never ceasing to watch over them.
She hears it in the laughter of the children running across open fields,
The grass so tall that it tickles the palms of their hands as they push through it, giggling in delight.
She knows that it is still here,
The magic,
The ancient power,
The descendants of those who cared, and still do.
The young man who glances up from his sketch book , gaze turning to the soft blue sky just in time to catch a glimpse of a hawk flying overhead.
The elderly couple who pause on their way down the sidewalk to watch a robin roosting in the tree above them.
The little boy who claps a hand over his brother’s mouth and stands stalk still, one chubby finger pointing towards the majestic blue heron, spreading its wings to take flight and soar,
High above the world of men.