Standing all alone in the woods;
eyes shut, I feel the lilting light.
Sun dodges needles through the crown,
beams land on my skin softly so.
Brisk breezes quicken and rustle.
Bristlecone pines ever sway slowly,
while pockets of air blush my cheeks.
Staying stalwart in meditation,
cones crinkling as puffs roll them
gently across the forest floor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem