The Prelude
As rivers run through tranquil vale, And winds stir softly on the trail, I record each passing thought, In nature’s lap all wisdom taught.
The paths of life lead here and there, Oft tangled, but never laid bare, Yet in every step the soul shall find, The maps drawn by the heart and mind.
In every leaf that touches me, In birds that soar and fly so free, I find within life’s tender waltz, A dance of grace that every pulse exalts.
- Dorothy Wordsworth