Subdued, quiet, peaceful.
The birds sing their songs from the highest branches of the tall, tall trees.
The rain runs down the bark,
deep veins covered in moss and lichen.
The leaves allow some raindrops through,
here and there,
it splashes my upturned face.
Soldiers standing guard to some magical place,
a place we cannot see.
The patterned beats of the rain hitting the leaves
create a rhythm, my footsteps add to the song.
The bark is now soaked, the moss slippery.
Rainwater runs on the ground creating mud,
as it slips down into the roots,
a deserved drink to quench the thirst
of these soldiers.
These giants who seem to make time stand still.