excerpt from A CHEROKEE FEAST OF DAYS, DAILY MEDITATIONS, by Joyce Sequichie Hifler
A woodland path is good medicine for a weary walker. Soft, rolling steps along the path do not interrupt the harmony of the woods. Even the snort of the doe before she bounds away is to tell her fawn to lie low. Many pauses give time to hear and see in detail the call of a busy titmouse and the highpitched whistle of the finch. This is Cherokee paradise - to stand quietly in aged timber and be so much a part of it. Even the tiny creek plays water-harps as it winds its way around clumps of dried leaves and slips over round stones that are a part of its past handiwork. This is a green cathedral with shafts of sunlight cutting through thick foliage to turn droplets of water into prisms of color. Nothing is out of place - not even the walker.
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