IN THE WOODS

I dare not breathe
lest I disturb the fragile silence
cradling the whisper
of butterfly wings
and the caress of breeze
on the water.

I tread gently
lest I break the silence
that lets the squirrels out of their nest
to play in the woods
or a deer to linger
at the forest’s edge.

I rein in my thoughts
so I could dive and listen
to that silence
that blends together
the rustle of leaves
the splash on the water
the flap of wings
the sigh of an opening flower
birdcalls and heartbeats
a prayer
into one glorious symphony.

The pictures are from a rural part of Maine.  One afternoon, after walking our dog, my husband said that a beaver was building a dam in the swamp that has been flooded by the  incessant rains.  I have gone to the swamp twice since then but failed to see the beaver in both occasions.  On the other hand, I enjoyed the sounds of the woods immensely.

Written for DVERSE’s Poetics prompt:  On Wandering and Observing

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