without a doubt, Cold Springs is the Sacred Grove of my Heart.
In fact, it is a place of profound heart-healing, or simple smile-bearing worship.
Through a pine forest, carpeted in green-flowing, lacy-seeded graces,
I walk slowly.
I know I am near, when I can hear the burble-clink of Cold Springs
gracing the banks, are three very old, bent, black-barked choke cherry trees...
In this season, the grasses grow thigh-high, buzzing bumbling bees hang on impossibly small fire-red columbine, a sudden hum from behind me and now before me, and now to the left tells me that a little female ruby-throated hummingbird is nearby...and there she is...too quick to take her picture.
She greets me at the doors to my place of worship.
Near the opening of the space inside these three wild cherries,
is a tiny drop from a spittle bug home...
reminding me that holy water comes not only in a basin volume, but by the droplet as well.
I enter by bowing low...
the movement is not lost on me
I take my seat in the center pew...
of my star-adorned sarong fourth-folded
all above me, something finer than any gothic stained-glass
sunlight through impossibly-green bowers of leaves
leaded with black spider-lengths of cherry branch
I greet other parishoners, as part of my worship
a little green grass spider - very shy
the bumble bee
the hummingbird, so teensy
a baby black spider that repelled into my lap from time to time
...or was it more than one baby?
a fly - insistent
chipmunks, so numerous, and chattering
I touched them and asked that I might join the offering of these as well.
I also offered up this prayer:
I hear this water and feel its coolness
I smell the grasses, not by bruising them, only from the warmth of the sun that I can see
through the leaves of this sacred place
and I am so thankful
for all of it
and me in it.
I made a wish with this magic...
I sent out peace on each seed that left.
I touched this plant,
aptly named "Self-Heal"
and we knew each other well.