“Pristine stands of fronds…”

Cold Fundy spring, winding hiking
Trails, narrow turns traversing light
And shadow, opened to sun-reaching
Ferns, silent reflecting moments,
Pristine stands of fronds embracing
Wind and rain, awaiting summer
Warmth, stretching forest-deep.
Amongst them, wheels of time stilled,
Waking dreams in morning light,
Realization beyond penned words,
Brush and palate: serenity, peace,
Forest oneness. Months later, miles
Way in winter cold, on this path
And place, ferns remain with me.

Thanks for reading.

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