Subtle Signs

It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit. - Robert Louis Stevenson shafts of gentle seek my thoughts, blessings, trembling, reflecting songs bleeding through the eventual afternoon, while softly shimmering, on the knees of a breath, like silence, solitude, gasping kneeling, with reverence kindling a joy, broken by the wind, who lingers on the shadows, veiled by the mist in the clear skies, words hesitating, a prayer, faded into the mysteries of knowing, where magnificent stars burn, purposefully, growing stories, tales of burning intimacies, seeking kindness, soothing gracefully, like a joy who brings its mossy rocks, on bold expressions, hesitating words like hope, dancing, swirling tears, blessings rising on the seas of autumn’s grace – stirring rivers, melting into the nights, moon in silent glimmers of knowing, where truth glistens, like a soul wise and warm, wistful, dew mirroring the sun, the moon, starlight in June, destiny on the edge of quiet trail, rocky risking the thirsty darkness, poured out on the edges of time, waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to silence the lavender silhouettes who laugh with the bird, crooning, echoing flowing with the river’s weeping lyrics, jubilant, but still as Sunday morning a whisper of sunrise, seducing the dark while winsome words, poetry smiles through the doubting, the night, grasping fleeting verses, rhythms of light rising across the ridges, revealing what it means to breath in the peace, wistful moments, heady and gentle as grace, promises from the forest, the pines the light who abides, sacrificing leaves, on September memories, bold and brilliant, blazing through the sentimental, sensing all the serenity, souls eternal, glorious gifts from God, who survives amid the quivering kindness’ of a moss covered thought, epiphany stolen by the trees, the seeds who never complain, because they agree we all need to become, more like the Son whose light echoes across our lives, outlasting the night, amazing – in silence, she abides playing quietly on the edges of a creek, gurgling happily, the song of a life who feels more alive when the trees surround the silence, when the wind announces its song, with the music of faith that grows strong amid the beauty of a forest, overgrown with hope. wild and unkempt, but lush with acceptance, alive with mercy and grace, love in this place, far away from the crowded streets of a past, confusion, the distant mess before His light seeped through the cracks.