Photo by Kseniia Rastvorova on Unsplash

The cart path was thick with mud,
A fallen tree beside the track provided
A place to rest and scrape my shoes.

Guilty at smashing the bright mosses,
I sat down anyway, looked for a stick
With which to poke at the mud, but then
There was a sound in the wind.

So I closed my eyes, to hear the woods,
And heard the world,
Traffic on the road a mile away,
A train whistle as it clattered toward town.
Disappointment loomed, but the world faded,
And then I heard the planet. I listened
Until a blackbird sounded its peculiar alarm,
And the rain began.

December 2000