Forest Dweller

Slowly, step by step, by step,
I make my way, hand held before me
as a protecting staff
parting a path through
the tangle of pedestrians
and underbrush of carriages,
  small dogs
and wayward children
that envelope me in the teeming forest of humanity
  that is my city

How can a forest dweller learn to truly love the trees
Like the thirsty, sun-parched Bedouin
Who greets the lone tree on a hillside
As “brother”, gives blessing,
and asks permission for its shade?

To breath together,
And sit,
To bless the sun,
  dream of the rain,
And truly listen, as though
  there is nothing else that matters at this moment
Because there isn’t

I could learn to love the matted jungle
of hopes, dreams and despair,
Hidden past the faces
of these forest dwellers and their monuments
that choke the sky above me

But to be in the desert:
To exchange simple gifts
and tarry a while in the company of another
Precious, though a stranger,

Is to understand what joyous creations we all are.

[Sun, Sep 28, 2008 – Another one just came to me on my morning run. I think it’s a response to Mary Oliver’s “The Chance to Love Everything”, from her newest collection “The Truro Bear” (which I just bought), where she relishes the crush of nature around her.]

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