orange twilight
glows over the waters
fir silouettes stretch
across the horizon
along the island mountains beyond
beyond metaphor
beyond story
beyond discontent
the shaded path meanders
mile after mile
the silent and persistent
life of the forest
moss and fern and wood
transcends
scientific explanations
the seeking of poems
the need for exercise
the hunger for epiphany
up the mountain
a spray of young alder
paper birch
hemlock
spruce
stand playing in the wind
in a secret glade
a huge fallen redcedar
hosts explosions of moss and lichen and fern
silence and life and ancient secret
brood over this place
simplicity and wildness and beauty
fragrance the air itself
quietness quenches my mind
A gunshot shatters the stillness
and I remember
below
the call of the civilized
demands and chores and bills and worries
contentions and conflict
entertainment and snacks
other distractions
unaware of this poetry so near
demand my presence my joy
I linger then turn back
carrying unspoken secrets
simple plotless stories
of quiet fragile enduring life.
and you said it very well..the words are never a stopping place, but a stepping-across place, or a crossing-over place..