Those are the trees of a hundred years.

Here, the remarkable riverbank, which tells me all I need to know.

If I look I can see that it is very true that some parts of what make up the world only ever change very slowly. Some things, like ancient oaks, are dependable, as sure and certain as anything can ever be. These trees do not drift, they only know this bit of the world, they only know how the wind bends them and the seasons mark them. They only hear of travels from far off lands from the familiar birds who return to nest in their boughs year on year. The tree is steady, only changing ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, expanding and stretching. Rotating bare twigs, to buds, to leaves, to gold, and back again. The only travel in the unseen sap ascending and descending.

The tree knows itself, perfectly at home in belonging only here.

Next to these trees. Right here. Is this river.

This free-flowing, ever-changing river. This river with meandering, wild, unpredictable energy. This gentle flow, turns to unstoppable force. The river is all travel. Is all unknown. Is all unforeseen bends and eddies. Is all cascades and carriers of broken wounds, and still bursting with life.

I see them up close, touching. Those trees, this river, the birds that live between them, all dependent upon the other.

Life brings us up close to both, to what is sure and certain, to what is movement and freedom. Side by side, may we see, may we let it be.

The trees stand immovable
The birds nest here
before flying South 
travelling across 
many marvels

I come here 
to be in the company of the 
steadfast and the traveller 

I come to the edges of existence 
I come to new leaves 
and fallen branches 

I come to cast a soft feather upon the
water, 
silent carrier of wishes 

I bring cares to share 
The squirrel lets me 
rest my head against her bark
to lay some burdens down.
The robin gives me room 
and a song

I bow to the hospitable nature of nature.
To not only allow a guest in their midst
but to shower her with gifts.

Were this not so, I would not be healed.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s