The Clearing

Wind rustles around my hair, whistling through the canopy of light.

The clearing is small, but is full of joy and though it’s cold, I don’t feel the wind’s bite

Birdsong echoes around the old trees proudly standing as tall as mountains.

I touch the calloused bark of a tall warrior, who is still battling and overcoming the elements

His shield, a huge screen of tightly knitted leaves, his sword, the jagged edge of a huge branch

He is protecting the young, small saplings safe behind his huge trunk slowly growing into a huge army

He is forever battling, forever winning, forever helping

The plants, the trees, they don’t worry, they don’t judge, they don’t envy, they don’t hold a grudge

They only help, serve, give and love

This place is so familiar, and so different

Apart from this clearing, the forest gets smaller each day

The small forest is going, metre by metre, till there is nothing left