“But the beauty is in the walking — we are betrayed by destinations.”
― Gwyn Thomas
The path I follow feels unfamiliar, but there is strange reassurance in being a little bit lost. It make my senses keener, as I watch how patches of sunlight penetrates through canopies above to the forest floor where white carpets of forest anemones invite me to go further. In a thicket I hear the rustle of birds busy doing what birds do in spring and I marvel how fresh the air is. Though I can hear a faint hum from a highway far away, I feel like a guest of nature, alone but not alone; I try to put my soles down as gently as I can on the soft ground and let my breathing almost cease. I reach out to caress the trunk of an old pine tree.
I think I feel a heart beating inside the old tree, and I imagine rejuvenating sap flooding beneath my fingertips. Suddenly a wind blows through the wood and I imagine a voice whispering: “Wanderer and poet, please remember us when you have reached the comfort of your home, remember how we fill you lungs, how your ink, your words and poems need the trees, we are part of your creation, and you need us more than we need you”
With jerk, as if waked from dreams I recognize the place, the path, and I know that it’s time to leave. I was just a guest, and home is near. But I bless my luck of being slightly lost while walking as a guest through woods in spring.
smiling anemones —
weighted by their paleness
make no excuses
Today it’s me who host Haibun Monday at dVerse and the subject is simply walking. If you can just add an experience or a thought about walking and what it does to you. Come and join us at 3PM EST.