Forest Hermitage: A Pilgrim's Rest

In the late hours when mist becomes prayer,
We found your sanctuary there
Where ancient cedars stand as living gates,
And vine maples dance, moss-adorned and ornate.

The metal roof, green as forest shadows,
Beckons weary travelers to let go
Of worldly weights, to step within
Where art and antiquity begin
Their gentle conversation with the soul.

Here, where the Nooksack's song flows bold,
Each room holds stories yet untold:
In whimsical art upon the walls,
In firelight that softly falls
Across worn wood and waiting chairs,
In windows framing forest airs.

Morning brings revelation:
Old growth giants in meditation,
Their wisdom seeping through the glass
As dawn light makes its golden pass.
Through Turtle Haven's sacred ground,
Our feet make pilgrimage, and found
In every bend of trail and thought,
The peace our hearts had long sought.

In this place where lovers rest
In linens soft as owl's breast,
Where meals become communion
With earth's abundance, heaven's union
We discovered what the ancients knew:
That sanctuary lives in spaces few
Where nature's grace and human art
Conspire to heal the weary heart.

Thank you for this forest stay,
Where time itself dissolves away
Into the mist, into the trees,
Into eternal mysteries.