The Copse's Soul
"Step into the quiet places—where time watches, the wild calls, and your soul remembers how to listen" CJB
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The Copse's Soul
the leaves chatter like gossip,
bending forward, branches creak,
roots tangled like gnarled fingers—
a secret handshake or farewell.
this isn’t a forest,
no grand cathedral of wood & sky,
just a copse—a small gathering,
a shrug of green in a world too brown.
step inside, let things be forgotten,
or maybe you forget first.
the hush thick enough to sleep in—
pressing against your skull, loosening stress.
a squirrel blurs between shadows,
a wind brushes the ground,
something older than time watches,
waiting for you to embrace today—
to be part of the wild calling.
it’s never too late.
the copse’s soul still teaches.
