Whispers On the Wind

I walk alone through the tranquil wood, for a time unconcerned, for the cares of this world. This is an ageless,sacred place untouched by the passage of time. The surreal light, casts shadows across the loam, playing back and forth , with a life of their own. The small trilling brook, plays the music of eons, ages long ago passed by. The artist Mother Nature , the canvas, the myriad colors of this mythical realm. My perfume, is the aroma of pine,and fir and balsam, sweet , with each inhale of breath Shhh........ can you hear that sound, the whispers on the wind, ghosts of those who trod before. Specters of the past ,the voices' of Sioux,Cherokee, Seminole, and countless others, carried on the breeze. I tarried to listen , sat under the eldest guardian of this keep, an ageless oak, branches reaching for an azure sky. For just a moment I am at one with the world, hustle and bustle of life forgotten. I am enfolded in green arms, that give and never take, silently, this is true peace. Twilight wanes, and alas I must leave this haven, that I have shared, for just a mere heartbeat. Return once again, to the cares of the world , outside this magical place.