I walk amidst

A pathway of oak trees,

Pondering on my writings,

Sinking into those of others.

Philosophies linger in my mind

As each disappears into sub consciousness. 

Birds chirp

Gracefully in the fresh morning air

And the July wind sweeps through secure leaves,

A dry shower given. 

Sounds of critters who once lingered in the night.

Sounds of opposing amity among the boisterous waking hours.

The July wind weaves through secret corridors of nature,

Ready to give,

Ready to take,

A gift to cherish til the very end. 

A fantastic dream to wait for.