
The Search
I roam these woodlands; I know my way.
The scent dusts of ferns and chanterelles guide me;
nose to the ground, yet my chin is lifted.
With focus and presence, there’s always enough.
The scent dusts of ferns and chanterelles guide me.
New sprouts, vines reach for the clouds
with focus and presence. There’s always enough.
The foxglove and pocket mouse attempt to distract
new sprouts. Vines reach for the clouds.
Their effort my reminder to dig beneath the layers,
the foxglove and pocket mouse. Attempt to distract,
signal that the fire-hollowed trunks reveal my fate.
Their effort my reminder. To dig beneath the layers
the monarch’s wing brings me back.
Signal that the fire-hollowed trunks reveal my fate
but as I roam these woodlands, I know my way.
