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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required "The forest is a sanctuary where you can grow to be you," ... by the Poet. The passing of a torch, when Spring was announced, was noted in the melting quarter of winter memories, as a sun climbs in its forgiving rays; hoping its extent will favor the many listless foliage that shy away the hours and that will soon purify vividly. A forest is a sanctuary of admirable heights, indelible spreads in the reach of golden beams. They'll be blessed by the first glimmers of light, and in its duration; at the lower regions, their duly usual reliance on root's deep hold of earth will stabilize their stature. The lesser herbage of lowly pinnacles beneath shades of tree boughs whereby the sun's light skips and winks a trace of them, is nevertheless enriched with nutrients that will foster its growth. These passionate plantings in harsh spotty sites amid forested trees are all functions of the grand scheme of nature at its finest. Two, of the three sanctuaries, the Flora, is known as the greater of the living greeneries. The Funga is the lesser of the verdancy of the woods' life. Then there are the incidentals of nature, and their idiosyncrasies known as the third sanctuary; the Fauna. They soar, stride, slide, and swim. Most move free of incidents, and others, not quite so. It's the beast of the jungle that rules. They set them, and when broken, there will be consequences. It is the pattern set by nature for the cycle of life. One life dies as a gift for another to live. These are the rigid realities of the woodlands, though not limited here, but relevant beyond this sanctuary's realm. The entrance of Spring seasons well the vibrancy of greens evolving greener. Anticipative varieties of colorful flowers can survive the thick overhangs of a forest. Fauna, or animal life forms, infest these regions generously. Spring here in the forested jungles is no different from the expressed lands beyond its perimeters. The Wicket of Spring has opened its forest sanctuary.
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