A walk in the woods . . .
Where else can you let your hair down and find such strong and yet silent support while revealing your true essence? Like a ring of old friends holding hands, the pine trees circle the famed Pacific Crest Trail rejoicing in the summer sun.
Laying in Savasana on the trail I appreciate the cerulean blue sky framed by fragrant pine needles bundled in clusters that frame my view of the world. Khalil Gibran said, “Trees are the poems that the earth writes upon the sky”. I lay here on the solid decomposed granite earth and wonder what poems these trees are tracing in the atmosphere.
Would it be a sweet prose?
Rooted in the earth, I am a testament of sweet alpine time praising the rays of the sun and crystal clear runoff from Round Top Mountain, dancing in the breeze doing just as I please.
Or a tragic prayer:
Seasons of change choke the words from my throat as fresh babbling brooks and clear air are devastated at a exponential rate, who will save us before it's too late?
What do the trees whisper to you?