8 Acre Woods

Enter at your own risk

Onto paths unseen

All that the forest asks

In questions of steps, breaths

Are you present here? Are you keen?

With twists of root,

generations bestood

Toppled trunks, in weathered

wonder of years of 8 acre wood

moss collecting same clouds,

humidity inhaled now

exchanges with past & future

Living in shimmering leaves,

glints of tomorrows creativity

With sounds of silence,

heartbeat of unknowables

Enter at your own risk

Into ♾️ acres of your soul

All that your heart asks

Is to live into your truth be told