Cover the earth with your lexicon of words,
scatter them like ink black feathers falling from ravens,
carve your message deep in the enduring woods
and collect vagrant cones, needles and moss
to compose a place of solace apart from this crowded existence.
Forage for the purest moments and store them like a cache of acorns,
long forgotten by a squirrel but now stands a giant oak,
adorning the forest floor with pages from its storied book.