#WhisperingNature

Through the woods,
past the trees,
by the streams,
the peak of the mountains rise behind the fog,
the tales the forest holds from man.

Each drop of nature's milk,
a tune it makes not missing a beat,
the bird whistling,
chirping in melody of the stories past.

The rush of the streams,
the gulps of the deers,
racing through the woods,
calm like the ruins.

Along the beach,
a portal to the winds lie,
placed to one's ear,
unveiling long-lost night circles.

Dancing with the wind,
moving as it blows,
with every direction,
a new horizon my eyes beholds.

On sleepless nights,
to lay in the arms of nature's warmth,
the grass they blow with the night's spiraly skies,
blinded by mother's gracious eyes,
whispering inaudible words of comfort to the ears,
eyes start to shut,
peace in one's spirit,
the feel of nature watching over you,
similarities to Cinderella, a friend from days of young.

Dreaming lullabys of winking, blinking, and nod,
the old moon,
and seas of fish.

Arisen for the days grovel,
the bright rays of the sun,
an alarm clock that needed no tuning,
the cock cockles,
berries as bright,
succulent of their juices,
a newday cometh,
a documentary of experiences that i know not but to term the,
whispering nature.

© #milialate.4