Forests

To hear the leaves thudding down on the forest floor,

And seeing them pushed up on resilient support,

To see the freshest nascent greens and purples,

And the old peeling browns.

To hear the symphony of birds,

The rustling and wheezing of the breeze,

To see stillness,

To be in it,

To be it,

To hear drops plopping onto the ground,

To feel the snow melt and drip down,

To welcome the shade of a canopy,

And to the magic and marvel of massive trees.

Beautiful, majestic and puzzling superorganisms,

To hear them creaking as they gently dance,

To see them bare – a bare tree, bare forest, and soon, later, a thick canopy, a majestic green crown blooming.

To see seasons change.

To breathe the air,

To feel the humidity,

To feel the humus on the wooden floor,

To see light dancing through,

To be scared,

And reinvigorated.

To move through the woods and forests,

And to be moved by them.

To bathe in the forest,

And its memory.

~~~

Reading the fantastic, insightful book “The hidden life of trees” by Peter Wohlleben and am transferred into the magical places that forests are.

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Rugged terrain

Over the past few days, I’ve been on a trek, to the mountain ranges of my brain..

Through the forests of thoughts, tall summits towered high, vast plateaus stretched out and deep valleys sank down. Fissures, crevasses and gaps littered the route.

A place which could take lives or a place where one could be reborn

~~~