These woods call out to me
As woods often do
The trees have a language
This is nothing new.
The day I discovered
The pathway inside
Cocooned, they have kept me
Safe, from the outside.
Each time I walk into
Their splendor, I hear
The chattering tree-talk
In whispers, so dear.
I’ll never get tired
Of listening in
To chats from the treetops
And roots, among kin.
The woods are now part of
My body and soul
We’re family now
A part of the whole.
The Self-Help Whisperer® 