even the squirrels are slowing

What an exquisite time of year. I don't remember when I last enjoyed winter so much. The stillness of the trees seeping into the empty air, the dew drops hanging suspended on the tips of the bare burgundy branches. It helps me see the wood for the trees in the medley of my mind. To stand witnessing the depths of the forest, the changes in tones and colours, slowing squirrels, moist earth holding the seeds tight in her grasp, nurturing and nourishing their, and our, dreamings and imaginings until I become the slightly more wild being I know is hiding under there, somewhere.


Nothing stirs, only the sweet balming of gentle crisp quietness.




I wonder ..

when you are next in nature

can you pause for a moment, counting your breath

and listening for ..

the moving silence

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