Your arms beckon to me, wanting to join
Maybe it's the play of shadow and light
Maybe it's the pine needles soft welcome
Or the green grass on the edge urging
It doesn't matter all I know is the sweet
Scents that delight when I walk or the 
Wonderful surprises held within the wood
Meeting squirrel, deer, bear even scaring
Me more than them yet a delight greets
My eyes in trillium and Indian pipes 
I rest in the senses which are a gift for
The delights of the mystery in the depths
Wooded sanctuary of my souls years