An Afternoon in The Sacred Grove
life maze of sawdust and stones
amid intricate intrinsic beauty
of things small and things great
waxy needles, rusty and sharp,
cushioning every footfall
leaves on fire in the light of autumn
forest geometry of jack pine cones
and acorn caps of so many mighty oaks
fallen paper birches
becoming soil
once again
whispering murmur of canopy leaves,
their voices both given and carried by the winds,
their prayers like the sounds of gentle morning rains
P.S. The Sacred Grove is a real place that I've visited many times.
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