Beneath the Quiet Canopy

Beneath a canopy of bending boughs,

I trace the ground where roots grip tight—

Earth pressed to sky in a vow unbroken,

Each breath a thread to the unseen.

The air hums low with stories untold,

Carried by winds that neither linger nor yield.

Yet the stillness feels heavy, like a question,

As if the trees lean closer to ask:

What do you seek, here in the shadows?

Is it belonging, or the thrill of escape?

Their branches sway, undecided.

And then—

A sunbeam splits the leaves apart,

Pouring gold into the shade,

Transforming silence into song,

And my heart, once tethered, begins to soar.

I wonder if you’d feel it too—

This ache, this pull, this untamed knowing

That the world is vast, yet calls us near,

Its pulse an echo of all we’ve lost,

And all we still might find.