The ancients await us
Hidden by verdant leaf
Ever patient, and ever hopeful.
We stride through woodlands
Intent on our destination
Searching always for the truths of life
Disappointment the only prize of that quest
Open hearted meandering beneath leafy boughs
Makes way for a knowingness to surface
Ordinary thought has no place amongst these roots,
Find your way to the tree which calls to you, and just sit
Temporarily suspend all other agenda
Recline against sturdy trunk and be still
Every tree awaits this precious communion,
Expectation hangs from every limb
Suspend disbelief and in that moment, ask for the wisdom of trees
(c) Caren Gilbert
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