Three crows i hear and see. The power of the three. One calls another, then another, chit, chattering they go. Echoes of voices on the hill, masquerade of silence and of din. Underfoot the moss, squish squealshy, patters form, the never ending spawn. twirls and swirls the eye delights, loamy moss under the leaves, natures kaleidoscope staring at me. Shades of green ever did i see, soft to touch and cushion me. Rock formations in the trees whispering, come sit, come sit, upon me. The biggest welcome i ever did see, snowy white clouds, in 3D, piff, puffiness to touch and to see, my head in the clouds is wondrous to me. Blankets of leaves litter the ground, the moss poking through, to stifle my sound. Crisp the air making clarity flare, sharp my thought, makes sense to me, the breath of life instilled in thee. Glorious in thought, the woods to me, oh but the life in and among the trees. The earth she cradles, strengthens and warms me, as i lie my head in the sky. Deep in thought, of the riches she wrought, thankful now i retort. The silence now is special too, as the rhythm slows to autumns dance, time to crawl to an inner sleep, restful now my contemplative keep. The beauty of the slower days, the dwindling and waning of Autumns haze. Winter now we all seek, resting our souls, inner sleep. Hush now and slow your pace, inner thought is not a race. Join the silence become one, echo the sound of natures hum..
By
Penelope Leyson Young
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