River holds the feast,
mountains guard the silent woods,
nature sets the stage.
Mountains watch the shore,
a quiet table awaits,
waves whisper of peace.
Chairs among the trees,
silence flows between the stones,
the mind takes root deep.
Whispers of the stream,
a table waits in silence,
night cradles the feast.
Three chairs wait in light,
under tall and silent trees,
nothing is in haste.
Chairs among the trees,
silence flows between the stones,
the mind takes root deep.
Circle in the woods,
chairs whisper among the leaves,
and the filtered light.
Chair in the river,
feet cold but standing still,
the wood follows flow.
Wooden throne stands firm
in the river’s rushing song,
who will take the seat?
Cradle in the leaves,
a chair brushing open skies,
the wind comes to rest.
Hammocks hum and hush,
hidden high in hush of trees,
hearts held in still air.
Floating in the dusk,
two wooden cradles aglow,
the night listens in.
Twin seats in still air,
hover between earth and sky,
green waits quietly.
In the forest shade
a cocoon of thread and air,
the clearing waits still.
In the quiet woods,
a fragile moment rests still,
a fleeting instant.
Garments in the wind,
beneath clouds, two souls wander,
far from burning sand.
Beneath swelling clouds,
fabric rises with the wind,
everything shifts.
Chairs climb to the sky,
tangled threads of weightless dreams,
falling into light.
Bare branches rising,
Beneath the glass sky they wait,
Winter stands upright.
Cold metal circle,
mist escapes in tiny drops,
nature whispers back.