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Hidden In The Trees MAG
HIDDEN IN THE TREES
Early spring -
trees are still bare,
ground dry from winter's cold,
the grass a musty yellow color
on hard ground.
I walk carefully,
stepping over branches left
by winter storms.
Silence surrounds me;
I walk a little faster -
hidden in the trees,
the sound of birds
chirping,
bushes filled of red colored berries
No one else is around.
Alone,
I follow a muddy path
pushing harder to climb
its incline,
dodging trees like a maze.
I stop for a moment
to gaze
upon this dull spring,
notice a glimmer of sun
making a line of light
between two trees,
and walk on.
I look out,
climbing over
large mossy rocks,
sit on a rock perched on the hill's edge.
Ahead I see trees:
Green bushes of leaves
Bunched together,
leading up to the sky
still, peaceful
Hidden in the trees,
Like the bird's song
I find the freedom
to sit and watch
this clear beginning of spring. Now,
silence fills the air
but the comfort of this season
fills my heart.
by Sheri I., New City, NY
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