A small village, a rising path, and the long breath of the sea.

Up on Robert’s Head, where the wind meets the sea,

there is a quiet place on the hillside —

a spot where something waits,

where the heart can rest for a moment

before the light moves on.

A quiet forest path where dusk gathers softly on old wood —

a place where something waits in the fading light,

where silence remembers more than it says,

and the heart finds a moment of rest beneath the trees.

A sunlit forest of falling water and quiet stories —

where a wanderer moves through moss and gentle paths,

toward a place deep in the woods

where something ancient waits in the hush between the trees and the waterfall’s sigh.