I’ve been to a grove where light lays its colors in-between large canopies, from purple to orange hues. And does it know to slow among the crawling moss or the ferns below? Does it learn to stay back or heed the line, what loves its’ light and what can do without its shine? Staring ahead, the peripherals in the same view. Hand to brow, squinted eyes, the tops felt but unseen. Where time slows and mottled light flows. And in slow motion the trees dance in the soft wind, creating soft shadows of its leaves below. Sun flickering on its bark, casting shadows of dark. Black bear asleep in a meadow to the right, head rested on the fallen, green pasture behind in untouched streams of light. Fresh flowers and weeds surrounding the napping. Walking in the safety of these giants, the safety of the suns dancing shine. I’ve been to a grove among dappled light.