THIS.

In the early hours of the day,
spring the secrets of the woods
as its dwellers say hello.
That is why I come.

And as I gently rock, with a cup in hand,
the shadow of the hill recedes
so the sun can smile upon the trees.
That is why I come.

Beneath the conversation
that echoes from all sides,
is the soft and constant shhhhh
of the water as it flows.
That is why I come.

When the days have been too long,
and the fire inside no longer burns.
When the voice inside my head
tells the stories I have left behind,
or whispers of the tales
I will never have to share.
THIS is why I come.