Wood Wanderer

I wander the woods.

In whatever season may come with its precipitations or bolts of sunshine, the miriad voices of nature, flora and fauna and the land sculpted by the master’s hands, speak in hushed tones, a language unspoken by the blunt and crude tongues of men, their message a rich tome of comfort to my soul; therefore, I boast beyond reason in calling this refuge, the collective untamed places of the Earth, my own.

I wander the woods, and my soul is free.

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