A Sylvan Moment

I love the forest
where one tree
becomes another,
becomes another,
becomes a forest.
Each towering column
is an altar
within a tabernacle.
The forest is a home,
is a playground,
is a school,
is a church.
.
.
The forest edge
is as a wall
with an unseen door
at every juncture.
It is a magical transition,
momentarily instant
from without to within.
One can not hurry.
Running through a forest
would belie having ever
found the door,
and you are rejected.

.

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