A crisp breeze dances off the branches of the mighty ash, A cool breath from the heavens above, Descending down to the rushing river below, Cooling the tempers of the passers-by.
Where they have come from, passions soar, Like a hot August day, Overripe with the heat of summer, As they walk, that feeling fades, And the fresh breeze of autumn takes hold, That cool cleansing clarity overtakes them, And they follow the river as it rushes on.
The forest teemed with life as we elevated further into the dense wilderness. Golden Eagles and Osprey soared above the canopy while red squirrels and chipmunks darted between the vegetation on the forest floor. As we climbed, the sweet smell of pine and birch trees drifted gently upon us. In the distance, the azure sky began to cloud, and golden beams of heavenly light descended from above. We climbed each step, becoming heavier on the legs and lungs as we hurled ourselves up the mountainside. Upon reaching the precipice, I strayed from my party and stood alone atop the mountain as I looked down at the mighty sea, endless forest, and soaring birds and found new meaning to the word peace. As we descended, the clouds turned a cream color as that light began to fade, and I observed that perhaps the path to oneself could be found in a forest wilderness.