I step off the gravel path, leaving the daylight noise behind,
Slipping into a cathedral built of bark and quiet mind.
Here, the shadows do not crowd; they do not question or evaluate,
The heavy canopy just rests, an ancient, unblinking gate.
And then she stands before me, weathered, magnificent, and high,
A single monument of timber reaching out to claim the sky.
She does not ask for titles, nor the metrics of the day,
She only beckons with her branches, clearing winter walls away.
To stand beneath her quiet weight is to drop my heavy coat,
To find a sanctuary waiting in a world that time forgot.
No need to prove a history, no need to guard the floor,
Just a solitary traveler welcomed at the forest door.
Courtney Bosworth's Blog 