I love Oregon. Whenever I come here from my home in Washington state I instantly feel at home. The following short poem is intended as a word picture of my conversations with God in, through, around and because of, the Oregon forest.
Darkling and twisted in orgiastic biospherean splendor,
the forest tweaks the shoulders of the mountain
and turns her head to speak of things unknown.
The hump-ed shoulders of mornings’ mild and misty manner,
spreads like green butter before the feet of day.
I can hear her whispers, stirrings on the woodland floor
where creatures run and leavings left behind from
windy hollows and sapling’d soldiers standing still
in disciplined ranks en-mossed in jade
and rustic, ruined wonder.
Had I been here before, there might not have been
these turning, tree-worn thoughts of a day
fit for sharing.