We become part of nature,
part of sunflowers & leafy stature.
By the running brook, quiet creek,
Like snowflakes on jagged peaks.
By sunny beaches, which the horizon reaches,
In wispy woods & pristine beeches.
Below the dark, cold depths of the ocean,
Which moon tides draw in motion.
Tis where my soul would go,
For solitude, no friend, no foe.
Dec 24, 2022
Dec 24, 2022 at 2:50 AM UTC
We become part of nature,
part of sunflowers & leafy stature.
By the running brook, quiet creek,
Like snowflakes on jagged peaks.
By sunny beaches, which the horizon reaches,
In wispy woods & pristine beeches.
Below the dark, cold depths of the ocean,
Which moon tides draw in motion.
Tis where my soul would go,
For solitude, no friend, no foe.
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