Come to the Woods

Upon a clearing in a thicket of woods, a Great Horned Owl rests on a barren limb. He doesn't move but he knows I am there. I stay awhile admiring his plumage, the way he blends in with his winter surroundings. All the while, he remains still. And I realize we are there for the same reason. We come to the woods to rest in the quiet, to commune with the sacred stillness, to seek refuge from the noise of life. We come to listen. 

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