When the Wind Whispers
Somewhere between the concrete veins,
The forest calls with earthbound refrains.
Not a shout, but a sacred sigh—
“Come home,” it says, “beneath the sky.”
We’ve wandered far from moss and dew,
Yet nature waits, still wild and true.
It doesn’t ask for grand displays,
Just softer hearts and barefoot ways.
Living Lightly, Living Slow
In every leaf a lesson lives,
In every dawn, the light it gives.
We eat what’s grown, we breathe in green,
And cleanse the clutter from the screen.
No clock to chase, no prize to win—
Just rhythm drawn from roots within.
Compost joy, recycle fear,
And let your life grow soft and clear.
The Spirit of Wildness
Wildness is not wild at all,
It’s calm and care and nature’s call.
It’s walking slow with purpose deep,
It’s catching dreams the trees still keep.
A bath in herbs, a sunbeam’s kiss,
A meal that came from earth’s own bliss.
This is not less—it’s simply more,
It’s soul restored in forest floor.
Come Back to You
So hang your hat on holly thorn,
Wear linen loose, rise with the morn.
Let city sounds grow faint and still,
And trade the grind for grassy hill.
For when you live with nature near,
You shed the weight, you drop the fear.
And in that wild, unpolished view,
You meet again the truest you.