Tree knees:
They look like worshippers stuck in the ground, bowing near a giant preacher. These bumpy knees of cypress trees, wet from a creek, hands melded together in prayer.
Above them, the preacher spreads his green-feathered arms, swaying the people with his sermon and pointing them to the sky.
His congregants are stuck in this muddy church, stretching their twisted faces toward heaven.
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Nature's language:
This is my church today down here in the woods, where nothing is spoken and I'm understood.
This is my sanctuary down under the leaves, walking among the birds and swaying with the trees.
There's peace out here today, something soothing to the soul. It's a gentle presence in the beauty that makes my aching wounds feel whole.
I can feel a conversation among the creeks and the trees, an unspoken language of ancient things that floats in the breeze.
I breathe in the message, inviting healing into my heart.
There are messages here that the human tongue can't impart.
They look like worshippers stuck in the ground, bowing near a giant preacher. These bumpy knees of cypress trees, wet from a creek, hands melded together in prayer.
Above them, the preacher spreads his green-feathered arms, swaying the people with his sermon and pointing them to the sky.
His congregants are stuck in this muddy church, stretching their twisted faces toward heaven.
--------
Nature's language:
This is my church today down here in the woods, where nothing is spoken and I'm understood.
This is my sanctuary down under the leaves, walking among the birds and swaying with the trees.
There's peace out here today, something soothing to the soul. It's a gentle presence in the beauty that makes my aching wounds feel whole.
I can feel a conversation among the creeks and the trees, an unspoken language of ancient things that floats in the breeze.
I breathe in the message, inviting healing into my heart.
There are messages here that the human tongue can't impart.
