my outside in

it is deep forests, quiet rivers. it is the birds that sing. the dew that still sits on leaves from this morning rains. it is the way they run up the hill and how i love kissing their cheeks. it is the mix of the early evenings breeze and shubert. they way the sun begins to set it's rays hitting everything just the right way. it is the me in all these things that i want to confide in. no one else. with exception perhaps of the moon, ....