In the deep forest I hear walking words of whisper

My detachable soul climbs stray sunbeams over spun nets of cobweb silver

I release my spirit between spaces of light and shadow

Where the wind touches the edge of beginning,

Where the world’s border begins to begin

Where the articulate trees lift in praise to sunlight their morning limbs

Where spoken word becomes mystery, an invitation to the dance.

©Anita Susi 2011


One comment on “Redwoods

  1. Dave says:

    Beautiful poem, honey. I think American cemeteries should be in more natural settings like forests or around streams. I’m glad the Estonians have their cemeteries in a more natural surrounding.
    Love, Dave

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