For Pops....

happy birthday, Pops! My parents own a old woods that has never been logged so parts of it are thick with old growth, that reminds me of being in a fairy glen... Some day's I just need the peace of this place it makes me feel whole and humble... So this is for you today, Pop's for having this magic place where I find myself, again...

This walk in wonderland is quiet almost sullen… The smells of moss, last years leaves that graced the long limbs of the tall ones make a soft carpet. The chattering of the blossom tails alert the other small woodland friends that an intruder is in their mist. I take up residence on a fallen tall one that no longer had the endurance to withstand one more strong wind from sister south. Light peeks and filters through the dense canopy from above, playing tricks in the weaving ferns, making their dance appear full of poise. As I close my eyes to hear what the wind is speaking, I swear I hear an old whisper from this grove that speaks of time in the turning of seasons, the growing of tree rings, rebirth of the young and the dying of the old…