Each tree, a living,
breathing, water
collecting, fecund,
vibrant rural
community.
It is not raining in this cloud forest.
Moist clouds above us all
channel strokes
of morning light
striking bright flashing
tones on each
bead, condensed
grace.
I am guided and gifted.
Monteverde.
In silent Quaker meeting
three bell birds call from tree peaks
and ring our inner ears
to an echoed awake!
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