drifting into my nostrils. The smell of

wet black earth, pine needles, and ferns.

I feel the light breeze tug and play at

my hair, taste the running stream on my

tongue, and watch the blue jay darting in

lightening quick flashes from branch

to branch. She stops to scold me for

watching her too closely. I slowly smile.

Then a distant whisper comes, I turn

to listen. Slowly the whisper draws

closer, increasing in strength and power

until it fills my soul. It is the wind

sighing through the high branches. It's

profound whisper turning to a gentle

roar as my innerself vibrates at the