The walk

The walk

Dear Mountain Bear,

Thank you for going on the walk I did not do.

You have taken the shoes from under me,

and given them room to breathe the air of night,

while a cryptic owl swooped his silent flight

in search of the very thing I did my best to put away.

The hunt for fresher life, fertile and festive,

in the company of small mammals in plain sight,

in the company of trees in leaf,

earthworms and earthlings,

in the garden of the Big Bang.

It suited me to stay indoors,

and not to cry too much in the face of the messenger outside,

to celebrate a brave warrior‘s walk

into the cradle of my infancy,

into the face of my fears,

into the promise of my fertility.

Moanbaun Wood

moanbaun.jpg

Moanbaun Wood

I found my spectacles on the path

retraced my steps

thankful.

I wanted to see the recording.

the man in the green coat and black hair

came here by night

crisp clear sight

a lantern on his forehead

he said some dogs were trained here

maybe search and rescue.

how many shades of green are here?

this is a place to stumble into lines

into phrases

even stanzas.

rocks and puddles

jays, blue jays.

on this trail I met a chaffinch.

she sang

to me

of light.

she flew with an open air

across the trail

above the trees

above the pines

she spoke to me of days to come

and I walked on

with a lighter step.

on the bench

sat a magpie

she did not fly

away

she looked me with her sharpened eye

she called to me of days gone by

immobile days

one for sorrow…

she did not sing to me

she wrote a note of silence

in that resting place.

I walked away

she stayed with me

she never left my shoulder

her grip

firm

solid

muscular.

she was no tenor.

that magpie had a nest nearby

I could see why she picked me.

where has my chaffinch gone?

she’s not so strong.

when will she rise again?

when will she lay her eggs?

around the corner

downhill

there are songbirds.

drops

raindrops

hang

from twigs.

ah that song

again.

this is the way.