Home

Sunlight beams down through the crannies of the towering lodge pole pines and western cedars. Crisp, clean air fills my lungs and a slight breeze sends my senses sailing on a journey across time, through space, and higher than earth.

My body relaxes as the freshness of the pine-scented air fill my nostrils all the way down to my toes. In the quiet I hear the song of a bird, a chipmunk chattering, and the steady rush of water rolling and flowing soft, over smooth stones.

Here is my sanctuary.

In the safety of the trees.

Time stops. I’m swirling. I’m still.

A soft rustle of the breeze between the flora causes me to turn my head. I notice a soft texture of red standing out between all of the green hues. I recognize the flower as an Indian paintbrush. Its rose colored petals point up towards the sun that feeds its rouge tones, the soft, hair-like textures of its petals...

I do not disturb it. Only do I enjoy its beauty in the light of the morning rays beaming through the hundred foot tall trees. 

The earth here is protected. Everything is sacred. And I am home, in the forest, my sanctuary.

~s.h.