See the trees swaying before the breeze,
Sails of green flicker in the canopy
As beams of solar light force through
To briefly shine on what is below.
A stream trips over well worn rock and stone
As it makes it’s way to wherever.
Birds drop from above in flashes of colour,
To drink or to bath in the cool water.
Hear the breeze as it bends the trees,
Catch the sweet sound as it caresses every leaf,
Every twig, every branch.
There! Birdsong, Natures aviary alive with sound!
Sometime harsh, a warning, robbery, murder!
Mostly gentle, melodic; happiness on high.
Water, singing as it falls,
Each obstruction a note, forming a score,
Peculiar to its own body of water.
Now, find a grassed clearing dappled with rays,
Lie on the green mantle and close your eyes.
Feel the woodland breathing!
©Phil Bottomley May 2015