Through the Mists

Shrouded in mists, the woods after the rain. It smells of mushrooms and heavy black soil, of wet bark. Ferns bejewelled with raindrops brushing against my legs. Drip-drop, drip-drop from the trees, strands of wet hair sticking to my brow.

Along the soggy paths I search for twigs of interesting shapes and textures. Dry and brittle leaves remind me of the fleeting nature of life. Barely visible through the dense foliage is a bird of prey sailing through the sky without ever flapping its wings. This is trust.

This entry was posted in Wildflower Moments and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Through the Mists

  1. janez says:

    Srečni tisti, ki v tem ponorelem svetu vse to še vidijo!

  2. sABINA says:

    Kar vonjam. Vidim. Občutim.
    Oh, za poletet v nebo…

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