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.]