“

amongst the old spruce trees,

i follow a path

make a path, merge, intertwine

with those who’ve walked before me.

follow the traces of a snow hare, 

a squirrel, an ermine, 

a wolverine - or so i wish…

walking through a powdery blanket,

crunching away through a hard crust, 

and on top of a white carpet 

sprinkled with hundreds and thousands,

with forest bits - lichen and such.

amongst the old spruce trees,

i listen to the sound of my breathing

mixing with that of the age-old forest,

the creaking of the trees, 

the drumming of a woodpecker.

gazing up to see the sun, 

see the sky,

the clouds, the moon, the stars.

i ’hail to the earth, hail to the water,

hail to the one who hails me.’

with my poor sense of smell and

an easily-distracted inner compass,

i dare not veer too far off 

the track marked with blue & green breadcrumbs,

so as not to be forever caught 

in a forest-cover, ’an otherworld

where the sun rises in the west

and sets in the east’.