It was the kind of place
that asked nothing from me,
Yet gave so much in return.
Just trees,
tall and still,
shouldering the sky without effort.
Their leaves whispered
in a language I didn’t need to understand
to feel welcomed.
Above, the canopy shifted gently,
light filtering through in broken threads
that touched the forest floor
like a quiet blessing.
Somewhere above,
birds stitched little songs into the air—
not loud, not constant,
just enough to remind me
that life was happening all around.
Between their calls,
insects hummed
soft and steady—
tiny pulsing rhythms
woven through the silence
like breath.
The ground was soft in parts,
scattered with fallen things—
a leaf still damp from the morning,
a branch snapped clean.
Everything felt as it should.
Moss gathered between the roots,
cool and springy underfoot,
inviting a slower kind of walking,
a kind of listening.
The breeze came and went
like breath,
cool and familiar,
brushing past my cheek,
tangling with my hair,
tugging gently at my sleeves
as if to say,
“Be still a moment longer.”
And then the river—
not rushing,
just moving,
carving its quiet way through the green.
Light rested on its surface
like it belonged there,
shimmering like the brightest diamond.
It made me feel
that things carry on,
with or without me—
and somehow,
that felt like peace.
I didn’t think much.
I didn’t need to.
Being there
was enough.
But even as I turned to leave,
something stayed behind—
not quite a sound,
not quite a thought—
just the sense
that the forest
was still speaking,
and I had only heard
the beginning.
June, 2025
