Quietly they wander the woods
straying from the rocky shore
where majestic eagles stand watch
to explore deeper within.
Although the season sings of death
all around them is new
they are reborn to their natural souls
Fallen trunks and trickling brooks
do not speak of loss
to these wanderers
but of renewal and hope.
Together they travel
ignoring walls of logic
instead allowing knowing to bloom
listening to the voice of nature.
Inspired by the season, by my life, and by the words found at this weeks Sunday Whirl.