A quiet morning,
New possibilities, new beauty, new day.
Aged mountains greet the shy sun,
Peering over the horizon cautiously,
So as not to awaken the world too harshly.

Majestic oak and timid spruce yawn and stretch their limbs,
Casting long shadows over the emerald grass,
Rustled by a bit of soft wind,
They stand strong and proud,
Ancient, wise, and constant in a land of uncertainty.

Sly fox, shy deer, swift eagle,
Come alive suddenly in a quick dash, a smooth dive, an elegant escape.
Creatures of light, of purity,
Content to live where they are,
Never judgmental, stubborn, or ungrateful.

Rebellious stream, flowing violently down a steep hill,
Anger filling its mind as it descends faster and faster,
Intent on reaching its destination, not even sure where or why it travels with such intensity,
But set in its ways nonetheless,
Like an old rock cemented into the ground.
Surrounding earth, moistened with dew of the dawn,
Slips, slides, moves when it is pushed,
Flexible, impressionable, easily shaped and re-shaped,
Like a brand new heart,
Ready to embrace ideas without prejudice and take on the world without fear.

Kind rain, cleansing and refreshing,
Life force of all creatures, vital to survival,
But at the same time, having the potential to destroy,
Carry away lives in a flood of disaster and destroy them all at once,
Benevolent and merciless at the same time.

Smiling sun, now out in full glory,
Pouring energy onto the thirsty faces of apple blossoms and rose buds,
Forcing the inhabitants of shadowy caves and recesses in the mountains to face the day,
Sending hunters of the night to their rest,
And signaling the beginning of another miracle.

And so it is,
On just another morning in just another wood,
Where just another enchanting song is played by Mother Earth's orchestra,
And where just another blessing is given to this day,
Humbly and delicately, here in the quiet wood.