An illusion, but a pleasant one, just the same.
Taken the right way, it gives us license to imagine a better world
At its very best, it might even inspire us to take up (or continue)
When I travel by canoe, by bicycle, by crutch,
by foot or by wheelchair
I am part of this wide world
I am in and of and with the earth and
the earth with me.
I am a cousin to that sycamore
over yonder, at the river's edge
and part of that titmouse
dancing
in her branches
I am part of that simpering stream that
empties into the river and
that ancient turtle
slipping beneath her rolling waters
I am part of those jackrabbits scattering from
them blackberry brambles
where that mockingbird sat
just minutes ago
before she flew away towards that stream
of which I am a part
We sometimes speak of "the Environment"
as if it were this
Thing
separate and apart from us
and us from it
but we're notAt the confluence of the Beargrass and the Ohio
where a wild winter wind
blows
the leaves back up the oak tree
where the mallard and his mate huddle
beneath
a fallen sycamore
where eddies swirl and dark waves
kiss
the shore goodbye
There are no addresses.
No
street numbers to be marked on a map
and kept in a file cabinet at city hall
with a corresponding Owner’s name
Because
there are no Owners.
There are no claimants on the water
as it rolls from creek to river to ocean
and back again.
And
it surprised me today
as I thought about it
That no one had ever bought the Ohio outright.
Yet.
We've reached that time of Autumn
when it's less about the brightness of the
color of the fallen leaves
and more about the depth of the
color
Some piles of bronzed and leathered leaves
suggest the possibility of stepping
right through them into another
World
Deep, welcoming, mystery
let us enter therein
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