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Welcoming Woods
by Wilda Morris

As I walk through these woods
I've not walked in before,
green leaves greet me,
waving shyly as toddlers
in their mother's arms.

A rock reaches up
to catch my shoe,
reminds me I may miss
the butterfly hovering
over harebells and wild daisies.

A squirrel scrambles
up a tree and out of sight,
thinking me a threat,
but a white gull
glides overhead, uninhibited.

Quaking aspen applaud
my arrival, bid me return
whenever I need
the wisdom of the woods,
the balm of beauty.


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