sacred ground

Walking in the forest
I see one after another; 

tiny dew drops resting on young leaves 

They collect and share light

like soft fleeting diamonds 

Viridescent moss crawls up the deep saturated trees, 

encircling their trunks 

like delicate lace hems 

Tender white petals sprinkled down the trail, 

are commingling with fallen foliage 

of seasons past

Scattered further and further from their source, 

they bring their message with them: 

Spring is here

My puppy's curious nose follows a small purple butterfly,

 no bigger than my thumbnail, 

as it flutters low 'round the ivy 

 She watches from a distance, 

seeming to sense its magic 

Wandering along the creek

I start to weep 

My tears fall below me 

like salty sea cousins of the fresh morning dew,

 gritty and rugged as they splash the ground 

How does the dew form in perfect round droplets? 

My grieving pauses in a moment of thanksgiving

for this beauty surrounding my feet

Though my head hangs heavy 

I am soothed by this sacred ground 

that receives my weight

one step at a time.