The Quiet Medicine
The city roars in iron, brick, and
glass,
Where heavy thoughts and crowded hours pass.
We carry weight beneath a hurried sky,
And watch the frantic, modern world go by.
But where the
maples stand in ancient rings,
A deeper, older reassurance sings.
They breathe out quiet secrets to the air,
And strip away the burdens that we bear.
The cedar,
pine, and oak together weave
A healing balm for every breath we leave.
Their silent chemistry, a hidden grace,
That rights the rhythm of our frantic pace.
The blood grows
calm, the weary mind clears bright,
The body gathers armor for the fight.
Within the shade where dappled shadows fall,
The green wood heals, without a word at all.
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