In The Green Mountains
With just a stick and trail-mix,
I hike the woodland trail with unhurried pleasure.
A half-mile by the stone-skipping brook
then a loop away into the deeper pines...more delight.
Morning sun melts frost on needles,
tamps the crackle underfoot.
A rushing sound bears waterfall,
a giddy, swirling froth beneath.
Humble trek becomes steeper cliff-path.
Through a break in the foliage,
I see down into the valley, lush and rippling,
the world as intended
Day warmer now, I follow signs of shadow,
shelter in the canopy's expanse.
All around, I pay attention to my good fortune,
celebrate my bellwether obscurity:
the chattering bluebird, shy snowshoe hare,
the rustle of creatures as invisible as they are beautiful.
And when done articulating,
I put down my stick, rest against a tree-trunk.
doze or nibble, remember or forget.
This is a welcoming, nurturing forest.
The trees, the streams, the fields, indulge me
I have the heart to find it as I wish.