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The green national parks--Mountains in there somewhere

Saturday, October 5, 2019

Hoh River Rainforest





Rainforest is beautiful, and more so when the rain stops.  Thick moss covers the ground in a blanket of green.  It climbs over boulders, and the rounded shapes of fallen trees.  Seedlings sprout from mossy rotted logs, and saplings vie for a place in the scarce sun where a tree fell and took several smaller ones with it.  I smell the rich dank luxuriant growth and decay. 








Monster trees have ruled here for centuries and I’m the young Alice in this wonderland.  Tourists have mostly gone away now at the onset of wet winter.  I hike mostly alone.  Redwood-sized spruce trees along the river.  









They began as playmates
with childish games

now in midlife
they entwine
in other games

deep desires
in a dark forest   








beach umbrellas
on a rotting log
what do they hide
and why on a cloudy day     












take my hand, come into my lair
let us talk of many things
the forest wraps itself in secrets  












we’re a close-knit group
everything together
siblings if you will
you come too  












Planted by a river of water
he bore fruit in his season
his leaf did not wither

when he finally fell
children perched on his stump
and built upon his ways.   










let us stand in a circle
no matter what the others say
our backs are what they see.  






You can walk the trail that me led to this place using a map prepared by Michael Angerman, showing all of my nightly sleeping places. Please click here:  Michael's Map 

10 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thanks Mary, and thanks to the good weather.

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  2. Beautiful is the word that comes first.
    Then, it's not enough.
    Moss, forest, mushrooms, trail,
    away form sunlight.
    Where I am.

    Elsa

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    Replies
    1. Elsa, beautiful words, kike your words, came to me before I went to the rainforest. But they were not enough. I had to see, feel, smell. And now am there even though it was not today or yesterday, it's where I am.

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  3. Soft whisper,
    light by which the poet wanders
    deep within the mystic's soul
    each turn of moss and tree
    on bended knee
    she worships
    all that be
    inside the whisper
    of light

    ReplyDelete
  4. density of forest
    whisper of light
    illuminates the poet's soul
    as on bended knee
    worshipers we be
    of the world we get to see
    through the great wisdom
    of the traveler's willing eyes

    ReplyDelete
  5. Better said, perhaps

    The Willing Traveler's eyes

    For the eyes are willing but first must be the Willing Traveler. And so this one wanders through her words in the wee hours of the morning simply to let it be known that although I have been quite silent, I have been visiting with you along your way always appreciating the generous invitation into your journey

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Junnie, I saw you walking among the ancient Sitka spruce and resting in the moss with a bracken fern as your pen. The kinds of things you write and paint seem born here in the rainforest. Magic seems to come from here. It carries feelings of beginnings.

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  6. I have NEVER seen pictures as breath taking as these, Sharon. Just puts me in a such a happy frame of mind. Thank you for sharing these!!!!

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    Replies
    1. Rose, I enjoyed your company at Harrison's. Hope to see you again.
      Sharon

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