If I’m Distant from Breath, I Walk in the Woods

 Today, I walk among trees, slowly
I bow first to the oak on the left,
Then to whispering pines gathered on right,
Giving thanks to the elms for cool sheltering shade.
Never once have stalwart redwoods
Preached to me of sin nor done anything but sit in the light.
There’s a message of hope if I bow often enough,
Stay rooted in goodness of green Mother Earth.
At night if I’m caught in despair for the world,
If I’m distant from breath which sustains me in hope,
“Come sit,” says the willow down by the lake,
“Soak your feet for an hour.  Ease your burden and wait.”


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