A little poem

I wonder.

The birds know, 

the trees and wind tell them, 

The little bear watches his mother

The yearling elk follows the trail of footprints ahead of him, 

The ground nods quietly to the feet, hooves and claws that gently walk it. 

A knowing, of the way to travel, the pattern and circle, 

the prospering through the moons.

A forgotten knowledge.

The way.

a little poem i wrote one night in Vancouver. photo of Franconia, White Mountains, NH.