Underneath the heavy boughs Where the great firs breathe, You and I shall wander, Hushed by the voices of shadows. The petrichor kisses the worn roots, And the cool breeze sings With crystal cadence.

I am wondering if skies Might writhe in a world unseen, Where the goldfinches flash Like memories in light. May we drink the morning dew, And offer thanks to creation; Hearts fabled and bare, To the solace of nature’s care.

• Robert Graves