88f20pot3hnig5oeh84 · WHEN I WAS A WEE LAD and felt the need to get away, I would run across the field to the trees that hugged the river. As I wandered through the woods, I would listen to the breeze brushing like fingers through the branches and leaves above. I would dream of far away places I would one day go. I would write poems and stories in my head as I sat beside a big ol’ tree and watched the water swirl around a fallen tree that lay half under water and half above. I would close my eyes and listen to the air glide whisper-like over the wings of a passing flock of geese. I would get in touch with me and all of creation around me … 
i run, run as fast as i canto this place where i can sit in one spot close my eyes and
hear, hear the river talking to me
the fingers of God brushing through the trees up above
.feel at one with all of creation
one Spirit
spinning twirling flowing
one into another out into the furthest reaches
of space beyond the milky way to the distant cosmos to the edge of all that’s known
flowing drifting
lazily along through the branches over rocks and stones
drifting into a peaceful slumber
just me my Soul and God .
~ poem “Me, My Soul and God” by Michael Traveler, author/poet
photo by Jerry E Shelton
Nelle's journey 