To the Trees I Go

I walk the path

in a green and peaceful woods,

the branches arching o'er

as if in prayer,

as if a hidden sepulchre

we share,

and I find a measure of peace

while I am there.

White Crow caws once

as if in sad adieu,

(looked long into my eyes

before he flew.)

I watch him go, a mix

of awe and rue.

(What message he imparted,

I never knew.)

It's to the trees I go

when I need rest.

My spirit sore,

make of their peace a nest;

tucked in my heart,

I go my way, thrice blessed.

It's to the trees I go,

when I need rest.

A second poem answering the prompt "Rest".