Silence echoes in the choice of path,
my feet step in the dry terrain,
trees reach high and light peters through the leaves,
where butterflies glide and bird’s fly
in nature’s spiritual shrine,
unlocks mechanics of mind
like dapples of light from a stained-glass window,
bringing freedom and release,
a new lease of life.
The arched sheltered trees meet,
eclipse the nine to five,
away from that small working room,
here there is everything to find,
when the view opens,
trees stand alone in solitude and resilience
with roots anchored into the earth,
escape in the compass needle,
works the inner dynamo.
Ascend the Old Pale Hill,
look down on the Cheshire Plain,
see the Mountains of Snowdonia,
that distant volcanic rock,
a landscape of mix steep gorges,
a chain of heather clad fells,
between the hills of the Clwydian Range,
sun light projects and hears the heart open,
for nature to carry and lift the soul,
like pollen from the bees,
a rich source of protein
and the sturdy trees feed their wisdom.