there's sacred beauty in the cypress grove . .
raptors gliding through brilliant blue
their strident cries shattering the hush below.
thin shaggy trunks reach skyward with graceful limbs festooned in a rag-tag of gray-green wisps
and a sudden surprise of red maple wings.
below a multitude of greens and myriad textures -- now wet, now dry -- underfoot.
and cypress knees, evoking ancient forms and spirits
that words cannot begin to describe.
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