As I walk through these woods,
I walk with a light step.
Pine, oak, spruce—
you name it.

These woods are silent.
Not an animal stirs.
I listen as hard as I can,
but I’m the only one to be heard.

These woods are varied,
and the trunks grow close.
I know every single tree,
just as if I had planted it.

The air is full of oxygen.
It goes straight to my head.
I feel content
and at peace again.

These woods were here before me.
I love these woods.
I think about all these everlasting trees
and hope the same will be true of my books.

I trust in what nature gives,
and I feel blessed.
I thank the trees—
thank them for what was never said.

EJE