Standing Still

In the early morning hours, dew blankets the grass and drenches the forest with crystal balls. Fall is emerging in this sparkling wonderland and I gaze into its mysteries to find myself. A dense fog hangs heavy above the river, merges with the clouds and threads ribbons of wetness into the trees. A towering ridge of rock and woods shelters life on the earth floor below and carries the secrets of all who stand in the shadow into deeply hidden dark caves.

In times of need, some people run to safe places and safe people to find the chicken soup comfort of the ill. Others choose to escape and retreat into themselves burying pain and confusion as surely as placing feelings on steel shovels and scooping holes into the heart. A few rush headlong into a whirlwind of activities in efforts to lose time.

I combine tactics and run into these waiting arms of the woods. Nature comes alive and sings her songs to my soul. And even though there are family and friends who have never stood in this place with me, they are here. Some traveled the same path in years past and I look at the dirt and feel their footprints under mine. Others are with me in the wind caressing my damp skin with love. I touch the cold stone of the massive boulder and know their strength. I watch leaves rain on the air and hear their voices in the colorful shower. Massive oaks and sycamores protect me as I rest, fragile and small as a wild violet, under their powerful branches.

I stand in the presence of beauty and love. I stand long enough to gather strength for necessary footsteps into the trails of my life. I simply stand still long enough.