the forest

Lost
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here.
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger.
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers.
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you.
You are surely lost. Stand still. the forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

David Wagoner

This poem by a NW poet is perhaps advice from a NW Coast Native elder to a younger member of his tribe. It was first read to me in class by my Tai chi teacher. I love the imagery and wanted to use it here at the island with my forest.

Our trip up to the island was uneventful (the line at the border going from Canada to the USA was horrendous however on this boxing day!) The bilge pump had done it's job (not much water in our little boat), the engine started right away, it wasn't very windy, and was merely drizzling: The larder is full, the wood stove is hot and I've had a little walk with my camera in the blissfully quiet woods. Dark, tho. How fine is that?
Stand still.
(At least until Friday when Fiona and her parents and her sister arrive!)