Coronado forest breezes
along with the Aspens and Pines
have their own sort of song—
a rushing of winds thru the highest needles
tickling the leaves sounding like a stream—
vibrations of the heavens, perhaps.
I find a picnic table just below a lovely pine,
each branch, minute vein,
topped with a verdant new growth, spear of soft spikes
like ornaments or pom-poms
upon every bough.
They speak to me,
call the name only my spirit knows…
is given in those moments
I am alive in my truest form.
2016 copyright by Katie Pifer http://www.witchpetals.wordpress.com