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
I’m off tomorrow for a trip home. Me and the family and the trees need some time together. I may see you here while I am there but if not, I’ll see you when I get back.
Photo by my Dad.
xo


My commute home from work consists of a ten minute walk through a garden, an avenue of trees, a field and a tiny path through some woods. We’ve been here for about five months now, and I have yet to take it for granted. It feels so special that on my very first walk, even though it was my first day and I was nervous, I whispered a greeting to several of the trees. (I have been known to talk to things in the past, but these trees in particular compelled my attention. I think they actually greeted me first.)