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Yellowing aspens with patchy white coats
give way to spruce and Norway pines
with deep cool shade and rich pine scents.
Ahead, a porcupine waggles its spines.
A blanket of pine needles quilt the path.
A startled chipmunk leaps behind logs.
In the canopy above, a Stellar’s jay flutters
above a symphony of crickets and frogs.
A hawk’s sharp cry recedes far above.
A stick transforms into a black snake
that slithers dangerously beneath our feet.
A waterfall rumbles in a distant lake.
Now, far in the forest, damp with dew,
dark shadows deepen and chill the air.
The forest’s a cathedral of quietude
with emerald moss carpets glistening there.
Amid the dense woods, a clearing appears
and there’s a slight movement, our senses aware.
A deer is watching as we watch the deer.
For endless seconds, we quietly stare
before the deer quietly slips away.
Then three more pass without a sound.
We follow the path with invigorated steps.
We’re changed and awed by the beauty all around.
Singing worshiρ songs is sweet however that?ѕ not the only solution to
worship.? Dadɗy stated, maybe to make Lɑrry cease singing.
?There are many ways tο worshiρ.