It wasn't that the mountain sang
or the trees whispered
some ancient verse.
It wasn't that the eagle flew
or the deer ran with
the timber wolf
It wasn't in the coyotes howl,
It wasn't n the raccoon's smile.
It wasn't in the hawk's shrill cry,
or the streams along my trail.It lay instead deep in my soul
where the heart can barely
breathe or see.
And through these hills
for years and miles,
the spirit I sought
was really in me.
It wasn't in the otter's den,
It wasn't in the rushing wind.
It wasn't in the thrush's nest
or the streams along my trail.
And so the peace I came to find
follows the paths
of trees and birds
Both feather and branch sing the song
and my heart will always
hear the words.
It isn't where you see nature,
It's where and how you choose
to keep her
That lets you listen to her voice
in the streams along your trail.
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