By Mary J. Winters-Meyer.
A two-lane highway bisects a wood.
The forest does not seem to mind the intrusion of concrete
cutting its way mindlessly through the loam.
Nature encompasses the road,
trees standing tall and straight on either side,
ancient sentries keeping watch.
The forest forms a corridor of peaceful serenity,
surprising the traveler with its beauty.
High above, the branches yearn,
reaching for each other,
forming an incomplete canopy
of living wood and leaves,
not quite meeting as the branch tips flirt with the wind.
The sun plays hide and seek with the trees,
finding the open spaces,
darting through the leaves,
bouncing along the branches,
forming spots and streaks of golden light
that beckon the eyes to follow.
Dozens of butterflies flutter by,
sparkling like living gems,
forming their own patterns of color,
dancing in the shafts of light,
then disappearing into the thick green light under the trees.
Where are they all going as they dart to and fro?
What journey do they share with me on this quiet road?
I watch entranced.
I treasure the peaceful moment.
I imprint the memory on my soul.