Wearing troubles like a lead apron.
Weighed down by woes
And weary of this world,
Without real direction;
Just keep moving
And find somewhere quiet.
Somewhere to think.
At the edge of the woods,
Circling at first,
Then scrambling among gnarled roots
And twisted trunks which form the gateway
To another world.
Down, down, down, gathering pace.
So cool and calm; finally quiet
But buzzing intangibly with life.
Run past a river,
Leaves brushing against face.
Densely packed trees
Branches sway gently in the breeze.
Trunks of many textures
With leaves of varying shades.
Majestic oak, elegant beech and
Teem with life.
All provide shelter and shade
To whoever needs it.
Here, a clearing!
More light enters in a dappled pattern
Through the sparser canopy.
The light beckons
And gentle branches brush shoulders
Like a parent gathering their child into a hug.
Insects, birds and animals
Make their homes here.
Life is slower; calmer,
The trees are so wise -
They do not worry or strive.
Appearances don't matter
And possessions are irrelevant.
There is a right time for everything;
No need to rush.
The woods are witness to so much
And hold the knowledge of many years.
They live through storms and scarcity;
And every world disaster,
As generations come and go.
Still they thrive and grow,
Providing life-giving oxygen.
We have survived many trials.
Rest here awhile, and you will survive yours.