I walk among them,
hemlock,
cedar,
fir and pine,
humbled as a little child
toddling among ancients.
I place my palm upon
the trunk of one,
so strong and solid,
knowing that its top
sways gently in the sunshine
far above my head;
its roots spread
into the hidden places
of the earth
beneath my feet.
Silent,
save for the sighing
of the wind
through their outspread arms,
they spread
a peace within my soul
as if from some benevolent spirit,
and I feel surrounded by friends.
Encircled,
I lift my face to the sky,
and let them point my soul
toward Heaven.
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