The grass welcomes steps like a soft cushion,
Temperate air wafting around,
An invite to bask in the sight of undominated peace.
Doll’s eyes stare up with hope of the lounging sun,
While Bluebells point the way.
Velvet scents trickle across memories,
Like the approving dirt beneath feet.
Elders trace the route with their arms,
Old and withered from the mother herself.
A clearing gives away into the earth,
As water cascades from everlasting flowage,
Trickles down the precious minerals,
To pool for its picturesque onlookers.
Youthful warblers picnic onto the lingering water,
While a tanager speculates from a lone branch above.
Their twitters leaking into the progressive dribble.
Serenity speaks for the falls,
And stills the unsteady soul.