Nature Whispers: A Beginning
These are the first visitors to my nest —
the winged ones, the messengers.
They flew into my poems quietly,
perched on the edges of grief and wonder.
I painted them not as symbols,
but as companions.
Each one carried something back to me
I thought I had lost.This is how I begin:
not with explanation,
but with presence.As you wander into these woods with me, let these questions drift around you like birdsong.
No need to answer — just notice what stirs, what softens, what sings back.“What does this bird know that I’ve forgotten?”
“What part of me wants to sing again?”
“What message might arrive if I just sit still?”
