BALANCE

Concrete roads do not let you see the path behind you. The satisfying squelch of mud, the chirping chatter of blue tits and robins and goldfinches, the flurry of feathers as you disturb a huddle of shiny-eyed magpies.

You look behind you, and see every right and wrong turn you made.

The stutter you made at the ageless oak tree, a ring of your footprints circling its trunk as you were caught in the soft rhythm of the wind. The pinpricks in your clothes from where a blackberry bush caught your eye, thorns begged you to come closer. Indeed, the thought of returning to the world of concrete roads and heavy office walls is a weight dragging through the earth. But you can take this place with you, sitting like a calming crystal in your heart until your next visit.

by Robyn Quick