The woods we find as mysterious as water, and thus this old farmhouse is flanked by the pond and the trees.
Beneath the lily pads, a world exists as a fantasy. The surface moves, and we can only guess.
But sitting in our great grandmother's oak rocker on the cabin porch, we feel sumberged in our own element.
We hear the wind move through the undulating crowns with the sound of the sea. We hear birdsong and insect trill.
The longer we are still, the more this living planet reveals itself, and the more amazing its intracies.
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien
all rights reserved
all rights reserved
