Wind rustles a light tumble of leaves dance across the stones ebbed within the dirt under my feet.

I’ve come to see the birds. They sing a song of laughter and sun. I’ve also come to see the plants. They’ve grown so glistening with orange hues and drops of diamond water.

I stop just beyond the fern fronds. Closing my eyes and hearing the woods. If I could. I’d manifest these sounds into feelings, nameless and brewed into a delicate concoction of oak fermented sounds, consumed and nourished. The soul is at peace.