The silt on the river bed,
The valley farmland,
The delta winds,
Barn owls, red tail hawks.
Tule deer, river otters.
Valley oaks, elms.
And me. At home.
Friend, find that spot
That suits you, that fits,
And dig in. Dig deep.
Quiet and late. I can hear a freight train rolling north, the track is but a mile off. How strong and lovely, the sound, and when it passes -- silence again.
See the footprints? Follow them
Into the forest, into the pines.
A man left those prints as he went in,
But he never returned. Perhaps
He journeyed through this forest
And back out on the far side, or he
Might have perished along the way.
Some things a person must do alone.
And now it is your turn, friend.
Take careful steps. Keep moving.
It makes absolutely no difference what people think of you.