In a woodland circle I sit,
And listen.
Surrounded by history I sit,
And listen.
With twitters and rustlings from children’s imagination, I sit
And listen.
Listen to memories.
Listen to the joy of the touch of hands
Listen to the exuberance of flight
Listen to the fears the past, through the context of this precise moment.
I sit in a circle of stories.
Listening to lives come alive.

Anonymous