Inside the Forest Primeval
By John Herlihy

I once found myself wandering idly thru a forest glade,
Summer insects broke the silence amid the forest shade.
Nature’s drapery rustles in whispers within hushed folds,
Whispering arcane secrets that within its breast it holds.
As I look around, the forest is steeped in primordial ways,
Unconscious of the enduring legacy of ancient, eternal days.
The trees themselves stand mutely as sentinels, not ghosts,
Thriving since the era of the Christ Child as endearing hosts.
Oh, how they survived the ravages contained in the seasons,
Whether winter snow or autumn’s death, each have reasons.
Still, thickened trunks and aging limbs rise as in a cathedral,
Uplifted branches and graceful leaves betoken beauty primeval.
Smoke-filled rays of sunlight enter soft to penetrate the gloom,
They tiptoe as if on slippered feet moving thru an empty room.
The dusty rays descend down in delight from the celestial door,
The day advances as the sun’s rays slip across the forest floor.
The awesome silence suddenly broken by the flight of a deer,
The sight of this fleeting wonder pierces my heart like a spear.
A wave of spiritual insight seems to rush in thru the soul’s door,
I fall, I disappear, lost in a wild impulse to bow down and adore.