The Weary Soul
For the first time, I lay on a bench in these woods
As the sun kept its shine on me
A butterfly thought I was a piece of a log
For it came, fluttering, to rest on me.
Weary of the world was I, today
The silence of the woods, strangely hard to bear.
The twit twit of the insects
The krrk krrk of the squirrels
The hmmmmm of the flies
Bringing my ins and outs to ease.
Down hill had promises
Little did I know
A dialogue with a pesky squirrel
Would perk this weary soul.
The sounds of the grey squirrel that issued from my throat
Found an answer from this tiny black squirrel source.
Hide and seek, did it play
Often pausing for a stare
It seemed to know who I was
My size? It didnít seem to care
Today the creatures of the air and land seemed to be
No longer afraid of this huge effigy
A frame that covered what we all share
The Essence of the Creatorís Splendid Fare.
As I walked amidst the giant woods
I looked up, only to see
How small I am in time and space
And thus in history.
April 20 2009 Noon time- Armstrong Woods
Featured in the August issue of the Stewards of Redwoods and Coast Newsletter