dry aspen leaves and
pine needles feel cold but

tickle your fingers too when you
gently trace, just the tips, so lightly

push down hard and they

crunch and poke you, fighting
even after falling, even when dead

looking, even when forgotten by most

bleached beige lonely

strands of mountain grass
sway softly in breezes that frost

the tiniest hairs on your rare bare skin

breathing in this air

heals wounds you don’t
know you have, heals pains

you’ve run away from in the past

like ice, melting against

warm and supple skin, you
quake at the chill, feeling life as

it tingles up and down your bundled back

this is nature’s pure

unassuming, unrelenting
whimsically enchanting magick

that always waits just beyond your sens

just beyond the checks

just beyond making balance
just beyond the noise of busy days

just beyond the boundaries of convenience

beyond beyond and be

yonder – where sensory is
free and definitions aren’t real –

limits mean nothing here, in the wild woods

where children’s laughter

haunts the shadows of trees
and light plays tricks on blowing

leaves – everything engaged in timelessness

do you know this place

have you wandered here before
did you forget the way, that used to
be so warn – come back my darling, it’s still here
the silence waits for a
song and hum to clear it –
to make the space full again, to

be the stage on which you heart dances free

step slowly after slow

step, one careful foot after
the next before you jump and

twirl and fall down into the embrace of it

let this peace be your

joy, let this grace be your
love, let this place be your home

dear one – let the magick in and rule this land


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