Children playing in the woods
Their sounds not matched by others
In their eyes the pure vision of their enjoyment
As they see the forest in a new light
Shaded but not in shadow
Soft beams filter through from above
Illuminating in the muted glow of winter
New pathways among old giants
Islands of ancient groves
That time forgot to drag along with it
Left in their mountainous cathedrals
To march along in gospel processions
Their praises of immortality to Christ
Who spoke to them when they were children
Seem to wash away sorrows and grief
As one stands among them
Listening to their words of ancient stories
Of grace and stillness in the deep
One can hear the echoes through time
That reverb about the incense filled halls
We wade our ways through these giants
As our ancestors smile from above
New light shining on old furrows
And the waves in the grains roll ever on
Great photography, Marco, and poetry, too. Damn sure works for me!
ReplyDeleteThank you John - Honored.
DeleteWhat wonderfull pictures and what a wonderfull way to write your blog!
ReplyDeleteThey both have a feel to them that's hard to explain. The word soothing does not do them justice. Especially the words remind me of a gently flowing stream in the forest.... That kind of feeling.
Thanks!
Wow Ron thank you! Glad to hear it has that effect. I been enjoying your writing for a while, so thanks.
ReplyDelete