Walking in the Woods

The rustle of the stale leaves beneath my feet is soothing. They fly up with every shuffle I take. Walking in the woods is pure serenity. The periwinkle blue sky is so clear, I feel like this is all my imagination. When I stop walking the sound ceases and all I can hear is nature. The uncontaminated stream rolls over the rocks, comforting me. On the banks of the stream is the lush vegetation that brushes me with a faint sense of welcome as I walk by. I hear the repetitive drumming of a woodpecker in the trees and the familiar noise of a creature in the bushes. There are not too many bugs this time a year, and for that I am grateful. Right now it is just me under the influence of Mother Nature. There is nothing else to be concerned about, which makes me feel like a child again.

Looking around, I take a mental snapshot of this tiny section of earth. But I do not save the file to my mind; I save it to my heart. As I glance around at the leaves, and the sky, and the stream, I undergo a sense of smallness. I am humbled. Is this more significant than me? Absolutely.