Category: The Natural World

Observations beneath the canopy—finding stillness, endurance, and unjudged presence among trees, seasons, and open ground.

Connection & Healing, Silence & Solitude, The Natural World

The Architecture of the Woods

courtneybosworth

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.

Connection & Healing, The Natural World

The Terror Twins

courtneybosworth

Loneliness had settled deep into the floorboards.

For eight long years, I was my mother’s anchor to the world—

The pugs kept watch by daylight, and I took over the night.

When she passed, the dogs and I carried the quiet together,

Until time claimed them too, and left me alone in the frame.

Two silent years passed. The quiet in the rooms began to sink in.

“Get another pet,” everyone advised. “Get a cat.”

“No,” I declared, adamant. “I am simply not a cat person.”

And then came Lily and Misty—the Terror Twins.

Lily, the exotic tiger, wrapped in sharp gray and black stripes;

Misty, the quiet aristocrat, draped in soft, seamless ash.

Separately, they are the gentlest creatures in the whole wide world.

Together, the peace is shattered, and the Terror takes the floor.

They bounce off the upholstery like stray cannonballs,

Scaling the drapes and turning the hallway into a speedway.

They launch themselves down the staircase in a flurry of fur,

Ensuring the house is never, ever quiet—

Especially at midnight, when the real mischief begins.

The heavy silence has finally fled the house,

Replaced by two wild, gray heartbeats.

The “Terror” remains, And my world is infinitely better for it.

The Natural World

God’s Little Pilots

courtneybosworth

They flutter through the branches, they sail upon the breeze,

God’s little pilots riding through the green canopy of trees.

Floating through the quiet air, they bring a welcome grace,

A quick and lovely pause within a busy, restless space.

I gaze out from the window at the feeders hanging high,

Restocked with seeds to greet the wings that travel through the sky.

From subtle wrens to brilliant jays, they gather in a crowd,

A flurry of soft feathers where the morning sings aloud.

The mourning doves sit heavy, while the woodpeckers take part,

Each sudden flash of color bringing comfort to my heart.

Yet of all the gentle creatures that grace my fleeting view,

The goldfinch is the beacon that shines the morning through.

With bright and yellow bodies catching sunlight as they run, They leave a simple whisper that life is meant for fun.