Wish I could converse –
one harmonic voice blended
in a symphony of birdsong –
but my tongue stumbles
reveals me as interloper
As much as I tread
softly over forest floor
my missteps crackle
alert the denizens
danger is about –
no imploring
can reverse the impression
Nature’s sensitivity is finely tuned
and I am urban-scented,
barely tolerated,
seldom trusted –
must bear my reverence
for this sacred space
more deliberately.
(Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 