Perhaps I wandered into a place that pretended to be as
carefully mapped as a labyrinth, with an outer edge but no center. So much was
happening, and I was too alert and alive to keep a single
focus: dark-colored spores and fungus threads catching rides on the backs
of mites; young box turtles sifting through layers of dead leaves while on the
hunt. Here, trees were so much more than roots and branches, and big bouquets
of showy flowers roped by sprays of nectar drenched me with splashes of scent
and sweetness. Limb to limb I climbed upward until my arms ached. It grew
dark. To my astonishment I fell asleep. When I woke at dawn I was happy to
see I was still surrounded by trees, up where the flowers are.
Maybe as I doze in the
high canopy, butterfly wings brushing colorful petals carry pollen aloft. A
group of birds steadily gathers beneath me, sifting the soil with their beaks,
searching for more than just seeds. In the center of older trees a dark
aromatic wood is steadily forming, bringing with it a pithy maturity and heart.
Buzzards drift above in lofty airborne circles, illuminating the way to all who feel
hopeless, orphaned, abandoned or invisible to themselves.
No comments:
Post a Comment