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The Forest
December 17, 2013
Cool, the morning breeze blows
A soft whispering noise echoes
Rays of light, silently enter like thieves
Shinning and reflecting between the leaves.
Trees stand like silent sentinels
Marking directions that are cardinal.
The pine needle mattress is my bed
As I tire and rest my weary head.
Like a freshly fallen log, I lie still
Listening to the whippoorwill’s trill.
How grateful I am for this sanctuary,
For within these trees I remain solitary.
In amongst the cooling breeze
Hidden beneath its falling leaves.
© Julie S., Marblehead, MA
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