I sauntered off not too long ago,
To a quiet wood the world doesn't know,
Gath'rings of moss blanket the trees,
The flowers bloom and withdraw as they please,
The Sun speaks in verse, the nighttime flees,
And there, twilight falls, and never lets go.

The air is never thick, never hot
The cold of the dark, it long ago forgot
It holds the pollen above the ferns
To catch the sun as it twists and turns
Through the maze of branches the tree-trunks have earned,
And I pay it all tribute with the words that I brought.
I share with the wood the peace that I sought.
The trees nod their heads, for the breeze found their lot.
I wouldn't leave such a place. No, I will not.