Small and simple things

https://youtu.be/OCf9vt42Vzg
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What is it about the washed out gray of old country roads which seem to lead aimlessly to nowhere
And yet seem to call me home through the lost miles and memories
The wild grass ripples at the caress of the wind
Rust colored florets strewn with daisy white and dandelion yellow,
And goldenrod too
Banking the red clay ditches which hem the road  
 
...And the trees and farms which lie farther on
 
A redtail hawk sat solitary on the line
A silent sentinel as I drove by
More powerful for it wasn't lost soaring the azure blue of the sky
 
Some things have meaning to those with understanding
 
I was going to the mountain
Not to climb or to hike but simply to be
There beneath the shades of green and shadows of the trees,
To sit at the clearing before the sun dappled pool
Here where the waterfall glistened
And gathered silence heedless of those around, to listen
To the splash of water off the wet dark rocks to the pool below
And in the silence still deeper
To the bubble of the stream through the rocks which led away
And to the wind in the leaves whose rustle sounded faintly like rain
 
I can think in places like this
Without the cars and the traffic or television static or words seemingly spoken merely for the saying
As if saying had more meaning than silence when sometimes silence bears meanings to deep for words
I need presence and being as much  
If not more
Than need or want  
What is companionship if one can't share the things which move one's soul
 
Nature speaks
And I listen
And in an electronic world this is the foolishness in me
Which I try to grapple with words to put into meaning
It's not that I seek to be alone
I seek to be at one
At peace
A peace which I do not find in the maddening crowds or virtual world
 
There are needful things
And for me
The deep of the woods which roll like green waves across the receding foothills
The lake and the stream
They speak like the song of the bird or the flight of the hawk
 
I dream dreams of fresh, clean air
Of trails which rise with hill and mountain to vistas so few ever see save in pictures
These scenes must be graven on my soul  
To call to me and draw me forth again and again to sit in awe of sunlit pools and unnamed streams
And yet not of these but rather the spirit they invoke
A feeling which I am at a loss to define in words...save I would try to share it with you all the same.