Through the dense thickets I lost my way, And still the wind tousled my hair, I breathed in the scent of the morning dew, Each droplet kissed the earth, expanding, In the arms of whispering blooms. They danced in jubilation, With colors fierce as the sun ferries off, Romancing the air with a harmony, While splashes of honey lightly flowed. Beneath bruised skies of indigo, I felt the pulse of wherever I roamed— No silence remained here; it echoed, With the memory of all being.

• Anne Sexton