It’s International Day of Forests today. Here are some of my favorite forested areas. Enjoy:
Lacamas Lake, Camas, WA
Cathedral Tree Trail, Astoria, OR
Mill Creek, WSU campus, Vancouver, WA
Ochoco National Forest, Central Oregon
I wrote this poem a couple of summers ago, about a weekend trip to the Ochoco forest in central Oregon. A beautiful, unforgettable experience with wonderful people and stunning scenery.
On Friday we set out in search of wild horses.
leaving the city with all its frenzy,
eager to begin our wilderness adventure.
We crossed sparkling rivers and overgrown creeks,
and saw wild rhododendrons
sprawling in the shade along the wooded roadside.
We found a stream bank that would make a great watering spot,
but alas, we saw no wild horses.
On Saturday we set out in search of wild horses.
We watched ospreys diving for lake trout.
We hiked steep mountain trails,
pausing to admire the grandeur of snow-capped peaks
and the delicateness of wildflowers
swaying in the gentle breezes.
We saw hoof prints in the soft forest floor,
but alas, we saw no wild horses.
On Sunday we set out in search of wild horses.
We enjoyed the scent of pine trees and lilacs,
watched lizards scurrying down rough-barked junipers,
and climbed hills to discover what lies beyond.
We marveled at piles of sun-hardened manure
scattered amongst the trees by our elusive prey.
We saw grass trails bent down where they may have passed by,
but alas, we saw no wild horses.
On Monday we set out for home.
En route we passed the Painted Hills that
undulate in shades of rose and verdigris and taupe and ochre.
We saw weathered barns sagging wearily in the fields,
antelope grazing in a verdant pasture,
and watched a man feed ice cream to his dogs.
We basked in our weekend revitalization.
And, by the way, we saw wild horses.
While sitting on the porch
of the rustic cabin in the quiet pine forest,
I sense the faint beginnings
of the restoration of my soul.
I scan the wooded vistas,
seeing so much farther than
the usual confines of my restricted horizons,
seeing so much deeper into the reaches
of my self-forsaken heart.
Listening to the magpies
and the ospreys and jays, and
those pale green birds with the
beautiful songs that dance across the air,
I feel my inner voice begin to hum,
seeking out that melody that has for far too long
been scorned into silence.
I inhale deeply of the fresh forest air,
and I am finally able to exhale, long and slow,
releasing the toxic fear and tension
that I have been holding inside me
as if it were my last dying breath.
I can abide comfortably for once
among the trusted few that accompany me.
A light joke, a sweet hug…
fists and jaw and heart unclenching
like a leaf unfolding into new growth,
I open to the freedom that is offered
in the security of this sacred environment.
It is the quenching of a thirst long overdue.
Amidst the stillness of nature,
my own nature steps tentatively forward,
and I welcome my reawakening soul
as one would welcome the arrival of an old friend…
while sitting on the porch.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 