I know the song of the Forest
Heard with the heart not the ear,
The cool of a Teton morning
With sunlight bright and clear,
And the dust of August at midday,
And sweat in the afternoon,
And the threat of storm in the evening,
And rain with the gathering gloom.

I know the voice of the meadow:
Monkshood and elephant's head,
Larkspur and pink monkey flower,
And paintbrush both yellow and red,
And blueberries down by the landing,
Thimble berries over the rill,
Whortle berries up in the lodge poll pines,
And feasting on huckleberry hill.

I've seen the sun rise o'er the end of the lake,
Paddled its length in the dawn,
Heard the waves slap in the force of the wind,
Clear, cold and deep in the calm,
And too I've heard from its shore in the dark
The mystical cry of the loon,
And the silver-gray flash of the osprey
Fishing its surface at noon.

And I too know the call of the other life
With people and jobs down below,
And numbers you see on the calendar
That say when it's time to go,
But I also know what's within me,
And the thought paths to guide me Home,
Back to Loll and the spruce woods
Where I never feel lost or alone.

Yes back to Loll in the classroom,
Back to Loll in my car,
Back to Loll in the crowded street,
The distance is not very far,
Back to Loll from a foreign shore,
Back to Loll from the sea,
Back to Loll when I need you most--
For Loll, you are ever with me.

08/05/2019

Author's Note: "These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart . . . ." William Wordsworth

Posted on 08/28/2019
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes