Today I had an hour free.  I chose to rediscover my quiet place.  It’s just a little bench in the woods, moss overtaking it, long forgotten by man.  When I began my trek, it seemed the forest was full of life.  I’ve never heard such racket in this place before, but I’ve never been there in Spring.  I saw no people in the forest, so I assumed it was the racket of mating season, and thought maybe I shouldn’t go in.

I walked down to the parking lot next to the pool and gym.  Most people don’t even know they exist.  Down at the very end of the parking lot, an old sign post hides in the brush.  Here, most people see only dead leaves and other foliage, but I can see the remnants of the old trails that once wound through here.  I follow it with ease down to the shallowest part of the trench.  Here I have to find my own way across, and on the other side, the trails are harder to see.  I wonder, how many people have stood on the bank, but dared not cross?

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