Redwood Magic

My hubby and I recently visited our favorite park to hang out with the redwoods. As always, a poem was to be born, but this time, two…I’m sharing a few photos along with the poems that I hope you enjoy and maybe even relate to. Does one speak to you more deeply than the other? I’d love to hear your thoughts…

Magic

We needed
magic today,
an elixir
for our spirits,
so our favorite park
sent gentle whispers
on the autumn breeze
as we listened
with intent.
Just a short drive
on long stretches
and some winding
like an S.

We slowly enter
into this sanctuary,
another universe.

The enchantment
of redwoods
whirls around us,
a balm for our
hearts and minds.

We stroll along
the glistening creek,
observing the brilliant blue
from sun’s reflection.

The majesty
of the tall giants
embraces us –
a moment, a place,
an experience
good for the soul.

Their Gift

Do the redwoods
feel sorrow and elation?

Can they sense the heaviness
in our hearts as we wander
through the grove?

We may never know
the answer, but being
in their presence
deters thoughts that
shouldn’t be let loose.

Their majestic aura,
a protective embrace,
welcomed as we inhale
their delicate fragrance
of earthy undertones.

I feel the beat of my heart
slowing – a calm flowing
through my veins.
He experiences the same.

Fingers entwined, we stroll
among the tall giants,
a family connected
through deep roots,
and we offer our
sincerest gratitude
for their selfless gift.

© Lauren Scott – Baydreamerwrites.com – All rights reserved.

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We Reflect to a Deeper Layer

We are graced with their presence, beauty colors
our universe like an endless ceiling of bright blue sky.
Then one morning we wake with heavy hearts,
realizing they have gone, as though sneaking out
in the middle of the night without a word, their
existence seemingly nonexistent. Iron-gray clouds
move through that lovely cloudless sky like a brush
stroke of lingering gloom. We suspect the sun has
an attitude, refusing to rise. And each new day
magnifies the question: Did words accidentally
slip from our tongue landing like poison? Then we
reflect to a deeper layer, flipping a switch because
maybe it’s not us. Maybe it’s them. A surmising…
to soothe the bruises on our hearts.

Lauren Scott ©