the movement of birds when come winter















the last snowfall

a thick white blanket

caressing the forest

unexpected and loving sky-offering


consciousness receding further

flora and fauna

will not stir their slumber


unless and until

honey-sweet sap will flow

and awakened are more than the crow.

winter forest

expanse of revered stillness

distantly auspicious wind

gathering of ancient coniferous

I am one of their children


sunlight streaming through the trees

melting, waking

I offer myself to the blaze and the breeze

revitalizing, photosynthesizing


I thouch one tree and feel the whole forest

arriving from a long slumber

most of the creatures are still at rest

unaware of the warming Great Azure


the more I listen, the more I hear

honey-sweet sap, vascular prana

the subtlest of sounds in the atmosphere

caressing the mother Gaïa


I stand amidst with overwhelming gratitude

welling eyes that speak of the opposite of solitude

i wish the future generations to experience this connection to nature

which is why I have made it my mission to nurture.

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