How is it that a tree can stir my soul, so?
Yet, set amongst the Douglas firs –
an orchestra of giants, the reassurance
of green towering and proud – the music
of my soul is nothing less than symphonic.
How is it that the sky can speak to me?
No words to convey its vastness, yet,
it breathes new life into empty spaces,
whispers promises, ignites a hope
synonymous only with its expanse.
How is it that a body of water – be it
serene, flowing, or turbulent, can tug
at the corners of my emotional well,
create a longing for the unknowable,
toss me from my bed of complacency?
And how does a single flower, growing
wild, crack this shell of indifference –
the determination to blossom despite
harshness of surroundings – instill such
inspiration, motivate me to rejoice?
(Day four of the NaPoWriMo challenges us to use nouns in our writing. Â The suggested essay is a good read, so you might want to check it out. )
One Woman's Quest 