photo from seraknee.com(written in winter)
Somewhere on a mountainside,
a mother bear stirs in her sleep
in her winter cave,
faintly beginning to dream
of springtime berries.
In mountain streams,
fish slowly circle, waiting
until spring
when they'll be eaten
by the bear.
And among the bare brown branches
and broken twigs of winter,
deer move
as elusively as shadows,
their mouths hungry
for the taste
of fresh green leaves.
Below
is all man's hubbub
and commotion,
a muted roar,
as he noisily goes about
the business of getting
his daily food
called Getting More.
I sit as silent as a stone
and long for places
deep within
the forest's heart
where there is
no sound
save wind in treetops
and the soft, padding footsteps
of the creatures
of the woods.
