by: Guildford Windley

Who will cry
Who will cry for the Lark at the edge of the park?
Who will weep for the willow in the far meadow?
Where will the creek go, if there’s no rain?
How will the sun’s rays, break through the morning fog
Who will bring us the peace we are crying for?
Do you hear the sounds of the ocean as its waves touch the shore?
Down from the hill in the valley below just a few miles from here, but the wind blows and carries the sound of the ocean roar.
The Forest with trees so tall, hide the pain I feel inside
Listen to the Hummingbirds, bees, and butterflies in the meadow as they feed on the nectar of the multitude of wildflowers, each dress out in its own color
They bring life to the old willow; her shade is for all to share from the harsh heat of the day.
The lark is not alone anymore; her cries are of joy as her mate returns with treats of morning breakfast that is shared in the nest
The creek runs with the water that fell last winter and with the showers of the new spring it’s alive with fish frogs and bugs
All types of creatures, some big, some small come to the creek for a drink; some will go fishing for that night’s meal.
All the while the water pays no attention as it flows over rocks old logs. In places, it will flow from up on an edge down to the pool just below; a hidden waterfall, a wonder of beauty, that too few people see.
Yes, the current takes fallen leaves and small twigs as it runs to the sea.
Here in the Redwood grove, do I sit, as the morning sun rays break through the gray of the fog, the blanket will be gone with the warmth of the sun.
Here in the fortress of trees do I sit, on an old twisted log that has laid here for years
A good book in my hand to get lost in as I spend a good part of the day, a bag that brought with me some apples and nuts to share with my friends.
Not many people come this way, they’re all stuck in their ways, phones to their face; they just don’t see what life was meant to be.
Yes, in this idyllic setting, one can find peace and happiness. A place where one will see what was meant to be.
Some people fear the woods, the animals and bugs. I can recall seeing creatures both big and small come by giving me the eye as they passed. Once a wolf stop but a few feet from me saw that I was no threat, gave me a smile, and walked by with her child.
We live in a world of two, divided a forest of green gleaned by natural means, that is fading.
The other, a forest of steel, concrete and glass that is taking over the land, a place of protocols and rules, communities of tribal thoughts, where freedom is but a word, that you must observe by toeing the line, no talking back.
Your identity is questioned if it’s not the group’s norm, and you can fall from grace if you challenge others minds with thoughts of your own.
No peace can you find here in the hustle and bustle of the cities and towns, it wears you down. In this forest, that man has made, life is cheap, no soul do we have any more on asphalt that replaces the flowers of different colors, how barren is this bleak world, that the only color that we see, is green!
Guildford H Windley
April 7, 2019

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