The Forest

In the heart of the forest, a whispering sound,
Nature’s song in the rippling brook;
Where ancient trees in solemnity stand,
And shadows provide the pages of a book.

Each leaf tells a tale, of seasons gone by,
The cicadas sing, and the owls keep watch;
As night falls softly and the moon sails high,
Life weaves its patterns, never to botch.

Let me wander, my spirit at ease,
Through the emerald labyrinth, green and profound;
Where every step echoes ‘neath towering trees,
In the heart of the forest, where I am unbound.

— John Muir

• John Muir