The trill of the bird song
lilts within the trees
sending streams of sunlight
and promise
into the wood.
Laughter accompanies the brook
whose water pours across cool stones.
Alone is not alone in this place
invitation beacons; I am satiated.
The breeze carries a scent of morning
and the woodland creatures speak
one to another, though outsider;
I am welcomed into the fold.
Never enough daylight
to stand and to enjoy.
I must suffice myself with the promise,
That in the morning
I return again.
