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a working forest

upon the misted morning fog, through cracked light, a hollow whisper of dawn belongs. among the forest floor are fungus logs. decaying steady, fixed, and long.

beneath the earth lives worms and beetles, covered by an assortment of broken leaves and pine needles. a canopy above houses critters alike, birds of prey that claw and bite, with the determination of free flying eagles.

dew blankets the bark, softening it's callused touch, a woodpeckers efforts are eased, a laborious morning never yielded so much.

amphibians slime across furry ferns, as wise as a wizard, their croaks are stern, each creature finds much to learn, among the chorus of frogs in the fern

while bark is chipping, Birds are chirping, toads are croaking, creatures learning. a human can only unfold to the Earth's silent yearning - for a soul to be still as the forest is stirring.


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