There is a place hidden far away,
Where the cool, earthy smells come alive.
Beams of light poke past branches,
And deep shadows, under leaves, thrive.
Far echos of wildlife ricochet off bark;
Through petals, a slight wind lingers.
But one footstep on the mossy ground
Is absorbed; a sweet whisper.
An ancient Redwood is the main provider
For barnacle like fungus.
The crawling insects have quite a buffet
And the moss will be the compass.