Poem: The Numinous

wbNuminous

By Dave Hood

On sunny afternoon
in Late August,
while strolling alone
in the woods,
contemplating my destiny,
I gaze at the dancing
Maple leaves, swaying trees,
notice a golden stream of light,
illuminating the pathway,
feel a soft breeze
brush against my skin,
faintly hear what sounds
like a Gregorian chant
of the flowing river
in the distance,
smell the fresh
scent of nature,
sense the presence
of “something other,”
as if the Divine is watching.

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About Dave Hood

Lover of poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction. Professional photographer and writer. Without the arts, life would be rather mundane, like a walk down the same old path on a dull day.
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