We retreat to the woods to find serenity
I wonder sometimes how the woods see us
Perhaps we are like visitors who have come on a bad day
When its inhabitants all have too much to do
Birds packing up to migrate to elsewhere;
Leaves falling down to make blankets for those beneath;
Caterpillars feeding fast before they hibernate;
Squirrels rushing home before it gets dark;
And we sitting there amidst the red gold and green;
Unaware of how hectic this ‘still’ place can be.
Portraits in Letter 