The Woods

           Nowhere on Earth do I feel more at home than under the canopy of trees in a forest. Ever since my childhood, I’ve been escaping into the sanctuary of the wilderness. In the woods I dream and imagine a different life, a different set of circumstances. I also come to terms with reality.
          In my adulthood, the woods continue to be a place of refuge and escape, a place of comfort. Mossy ground and babbling brooks, cool damp pockets of life, this is the ground I seek. Occasionally, the sunlight pierces the veil of foliage, and I am warmed. The whole time, each tree stands guard. They surround me. They protect me from the reality I struggle to face.
           The woods – an army of protectors, solid, impenetrable, old and wise. I am fleeting against the age of the forest. I look to the woods for comfort, solitude and strength.