Fingers of God

Maybe I read it in a book when I was a kid..
I don't remember when I first started using
those words for the shafts of light that spill
through the towering arms of fully greened trees.
Those giants that curtain the sky on misty mornings,
like the one we had today.
Flavoring the woods I pass through with primordial
essence, expressive pathways of sunlight..
To where and what?
To that which in haste, has been forgotten.
Clean, beckoning my spirit, to remember..what truly
matters..
Come dance on pine needles, and nap afterwards in the
quite places, that can still be found..
No slight of hand magic..this is the real thing.