A Roadside Glen

A quiet roadside glen hidden just out of sight,
Exposed by a momentary glance drawn forth
­     by a reflection amongst the trees.

A place of solitude and stillness;
Of cool green and dark earth tones
­      nestled at the banks of a rock-lined stream.

A place to rest, to tarry for the moment
Before traveling on and resuming the journey
­      to a point somewhere further down the road.

A shadow-striped glen of light and shade
Created by the overhang of great oaks,
­      tall cedars and stately elms.

A place simply to BE, serving no other purpose.
No construct of man, a place that encompasses a much grander scheme
­      existing of Nature, for Nature.

A place to lie, to contemplate, to think great thoughts,
Or no thoughts at all, to simply clear the mind
­      and rest next to its soothing waters.

A place that can not be shared, because to do so
Breaks the solitude and hides the wonder of the place
­      thus rendering the experience meaningless.

A place that’s true magic lies in the fact that it exists all around us,
Yet is rarely found. Simplicity hiding in the complexity
­ ­      of a modern world going mad.

A place of contradiction, that exists only for the duration
Of each visit, then fades from sight once more
­      till the next seeker arrives.

Yet, each who is fortunate enough to find it
Will sense the presence of those who have come before
­      and will leave something of themselves behind.

And thus will the cycle forever repeat.
For this is the nature of such a place, hidden in plan sight
by the side of the road,
­      Cool,
­           Silent,
­                Serene.