The Woods is of fog and rain, this morning,
Yet, it is welcoming in all ways.
The pattering of the rain on the leaves,
Is as of an audience offering a salutation of acknowledgement,
As I step into the Music.
Humility and Honor are all that are required,
For admission to join in the Dance.
Step onto the stage,
Orchestrated with creeks running, birds singing,
Even large drops of gathered rain falling,
From trees to the leaves and Earth below.
Oh, and the Greens of emerging Spring leaves,
Subtly laced with the various Flora of the season,
Could not be prettier,
Enhanced by the Mist.
Or can they? I wonder,
Just as the Sun filters through.
Peter J Quandt