Here the elder trees surround me.
Light scatters down through canopies
of vibrant leaves, waning green.
Gatherers of acorns scamper and shuffle,
I can hear them on the leaf-strewn ground,
while high above the thin trunks so limber,
sway with the breezes, lulling in sound.
Somehow, this tiny space I occupy holds
a lake, hills, and hundreds of trees
as well as the scattered leaves at my feet.
God's whisper of creation present even in the breeze.
Here, at Lake Lanier I took a deep breath of fresh air. I woke up that first morning to my first taste of autumn temperatures. What is it about the woods of the north (the north to me) that delights me so much? The scent of trees in the air, the rustle of the branches, the fluttering leaves falling gently, the bird calls across the woods, the windy paths that lead to lakes and waterfalls, the shady spaces with sunlight streaming through the layers of leaves, the echo of your footsteps, the hints of stories dwelling deep, the sense of a magical realm apart from our usual daily view. Just being here in the woods slows me down and excites me to be outside to enjoy a piece of beautiful creation.
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