The Trees Become Silent Now

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As the autumn quietly abandons the forest,

slipping through the brush

whispering,

the trees become silent now

occasionally entertaining

a ghost

or a few lost leaves.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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In the Softness of the Autumn Sun

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In the softness of the autumn sun, a quiet returns

to our hearts

an in between, a season

of twilight, of dreaming

where we remember gathering, holding onto,

yet a time of resting

to cease from striving,

even blankets wrapping us

in a feeling of safety, letting go

trusting the arms,

trusting the smile

of our lover

and the smell of apples

bringing wholeness

in the twilight.

We drift off again.

Autumn.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Our Most Sacred Spaces

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“Keep close to nature’s heart….and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain

or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”

John Muir

Our most sacred spaces were never meant to be broken

as if glass could shatter,

becoming even smaller

versions of ourselves,

barely remembering

the wholeness of the forest

and who it was,

that made the Earth.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies