TH ( / )

Nature's Healing

Sadness pushes at my souls,
rubs me in the ground.
Then I'll look up at a bird,
hear a rousing sound.

Weariness becomes my blight,
cannot move my head.
Hear the babble of a brook,
think of it instead.

Pain invades my very soul,
burns like fire's might.
Then I look up in the sky
and see something bright.

Depression comes upon me;
no where I've to turn.
Look into a forest glade
and begin to yearn.

by Terry Hoffman

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