Stop, look around but listen close.
Don’t let a single word slip your lips.
Let all your other senses guide you,
On a journey that has no boundaries.
To your left stands an old oak tree,
He is grandfather of this woodland.
In his branches an owl sings a song,
Older than the folk tales humans tell.
Below stand a crowd of toadstools,
The silent soldiers of the forest guard.
Out of the leaves a squirrel comes,
Looking for nuts like a pirate for gold.
The sun beams in your eyes to look,
And follow the shadows all around.
A gentle breeze touches your face,
This is mother nature’s blessings.
Now turn to leave but remember,
You will always be welcome here.
There are no defined opening hours,
And priceless is their wealth to Earth.
© Fi S. J. Brown