**Hiding Place**

There’s a hollow in the tall grass,

where the world forgets to look—

a bend between the daylight

and the shadowed edge of brook.

I slip into the silence,

where the willow’s branches lean,

and tuck myself in hidden roots

where all the green goes green.

The air is thick with quiet here,

a secret soft and still.

Even time is hushed, as if afraid

its ticking might spill.

Leaves whisper like forgotten songs,

as slow winds bend and stray.

No one knows my hiding place—

it keeps the world away.

In this small, unbroken dark,

I’m folded, deep and whole,

where nothing’s left to scatter me

or ask what makes me whole.

When they call my name, I linger here,

where no voice finds a trace,

for here I know that I belong—

in my wild, hidden place.