20.10.10 - belatedly

this is my cabin in the woods,
and my latest temptation
to become a hermit poet in the wilderness:and this is my morning musing, from yesterday:
this morning's walk, solitary through the dew damp valley,
ended here - perched on this small log beside water,
a burbling stream that cuts a deep swath
through the otherwise unending green.
on such rare mornings
when the drone and chatter of people are far away,
when the quiet world emerges from the hubbub of humanity,
i shrink and forget myself/remember myself?
in mountain mornings i often cannot recall
where i am,
when i am.
human differences and political lines fade away
- mexico, colorado, romania, switzerland -
all my beloved mountain meadows meld into one.
tree and flower,
mist and rays of light,
ripples above and pebbles under
the always flowing, falling water.
the world is the world,
full of beauty and grace and deeply biting cold.
and i
- who fancy myself so transient, mutable -
am still the same child
who hid behind vines to watch the world,
the same soul encased in an aging shell.
perhaps instead of always seeking truth
i should pause my search and sit quietly,
until my eyes relearn how to see the truths that scream silently all around,
how to rest in the mountainous calm.