When my soul floats with the Holy Spirit
And my bones, old and cold in the ground in 100 years or a 1000?
Will the ancient trees pass on the story of the woman who walked below them at daybreak and dusk? Will they talk of her words and thoughts?
Will they recall how they dropped twigs and kindling everyday.
How they shed their leaves to become rich soil.
How they swayed their branches in the wind with music soothing to the ear.
Will they speak of the mornings air full of sap perfume sent out to greet the woman who was here for her earthly time?
I ponder on these thoughts from time to time. The trees refresh my soul. Their beauty drenches my eyes and heart.