Oh these woods I awake to, eyes closed. These woods that held me after my return from Hanoi from 9/11, nutured me, soothed me.
Oh these woods, waking to the rat tat tat of a woodpecker in the distance, the loon’s soulful song and a full symphony of songbirds meeting the new morning. Birds I’ve never heard before. So strong, so full, so deep and dimensional. I wish I could draw what I’m hearing.
It stops suddenly, oddly still and quiet for a moment, a long moment, and all I hear is the rustling of the leaves as the wind dances past their branches and I am home. The song starts again and it is different, not as deep, full or dense. I am not led to imaging the depth of the woods, but the shalow soft song drawing me from my slumber. The 3 dimensional sharpness from before, my eyes closed and my ears seeing for me, has faded just a bit to a flatness. I am grateful nonetheless. The fresh air filling my lungs, the soothing shuffle of the breeze and the soft verse of the birds. They are not here for me but for the divinity of life manifesting in all it’s splendor. I am grateful to grab a piece of it as I make my way to the coffee pot.