When the world becomes too noisy and cluttered, I visit a place so green and cool and quiet.
You only hear the wind wispering high above, in the tree tops, and sometimes a squirrel rustling through the leaves.
Trees are silent companions:
Even your foot steps are muted, cushioned by soft moss.
When your neck starts aching a bit from looking up into the tall, tall trees,
you start to look down and notice the large, moss-covered boulders
Trees seem to grow from the rocks, roots gripping firmly
so firmly that even after the giants fall, they won’t let go:
Beyond the rocks, your eyes focus on even smaller details on the forest floor: mushrooms and fungi thrive in moist places
Wildflowers favor clearings and wood’s edge:
And where light filters through the dense canopy, it sparkles the path alive
Your eyes feast on the lush, soul-nourishing green as if your life depended on it (and, of course, it does):