Let's be still

My shoe sank down in a messy mix of moss, mud and tree bark. I smiled. 

“It’s good to be back,” I said to no one but the low-hanging branches next to my face.

That feeling of packed dirt under my feet and a heady fragrance of budding trees, floral scents and a dank deep nose full of wet soil was familiar…inviting. Intoxicated, I pushed on through the strain of semi-dormant quadricep muscles and turned down yet another side trail.

I passed the beacon, a tree that morphs from season to season, covered in bursting vines that were reaching up toward the tops for a moment in the sun. I found myself surrounded by a thousand shades of green; stems, leaves, buds and flowering bushes taking root for spring. 

I arrive at a clearing. Where the cedars, hemlock and Douglas firs tower like giants. Old-growth reminders of my place among nature. I stand. Still. Listening to the chatter of birds and creatures signaling my arrival. Staring at the dew drops hanging on the ground cover. Waiting for the wind to tell me its secrets. This is my church. My sanctuary. The intersection of life.

Just one more moment. Stillness. 

I shift my pack and take a step forward.

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