Christin Myrick Shepherd

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Listening to Spirit: a Poem

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Sometimes, I go to the forest

and I hear

the Spirit of all things.

 

Sometimes, I go to the forest

and I hear

only my breath 

as I walk upon the skin

of the mountain.

 

Sometimes, I go to the forest

and I hear

the wind under the birds flight,

the fingers of the breeze

softly caressing swaying pines.

 

But, my favorite, 

my most special voyages,

I go to the forest

and I hear

the Spirit 

and my breath

and the wind

all intertwined.

All as One. 

 

And that is when i feel most at home.

 

 

 

 
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