Wednesday, August 27, 2014

the dreaming forest

A virtual walk, today. Into the little forest in the suburban neighbourhood near mine. Past all the huge trucks that almost no one really needs, but are prevalent in this city.

Someone randomly put a bench on this trail. It's a bit worn, but well placed.

When The Wind Takes A Tree In Its Arms

by Hafiz

Three-quarters of the world dances all night,
the waves moving as they do on the seas.

And when the wind takes a tree in its arms,
what happens then?

The green branches of the earth may seem to
reach out to touch us if we near them in a forest,
a meadow, a field.

Does not all sway to a rhythm that began long
before we stood upright?

We are in the mountain's home, just guests.
Guests of the sky, the streams, the giving soil
we all nurse from.

Would not you be happier following their example -
bowing in unseen ways, then rising up?

Lost in the Forest…

By Pablo Neruda

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood—
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

Sleeping In The Forest

by Mary Oliver

I thought the earth remembered me, she
took me back so tenderly, arranging
her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds. I slept
as never before, a stone
on the riverbed, nothing
between me and the white fire of the stars
but my thoughts, and they floated
light as moths among the branches
of the perfect trees. All night
I heard the small kingdoms breathing
around me, the insects, and the birds
who do their work in the darkness. All night
I rose and fell, as if in water, grappling
with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.

The forest always seems to take me back. Whenever I'm walking among trees, I'm right back there in my childhood.

On the walk home I passed this tree which hangs over the grey fence at a certain point. I've walked by it for years, but never seen it in fruit. How happy this made me.


  1. natural! so inviting and giving!!1
    That's all I could say.
    Thank you so much for this journey into the calm heart of things.

  2. Lost in the forest..... My favourite poem. The last part moves me every time I read it.
    " if suddenly the roots I had left behind
    cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood—
    and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent".
    Your photos are just perfect.

  3. funny, I spend so much time focussing when the blur of a bench is beautiful.


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