It’s opening my wild nostrils.

It’s taking in the sun.

She showers us –

that I might hear,

that I might see-

Seven thousand cords,

shaking hands with trees

nourishing the very essence of my being.

Surely, there’s no need for bread.

No need for pens.

Let my heart lend her canvas,

while my spirit supplies the ink.

I’m on the journey-

riding the waves of peace…