Soft wind here sounds empty, like air collapsing into a void, but I know it is mostly the sound of trees resisting movement. Nights when wind is the loudest sound I sometimes stand listening to that whir of leaves and needles which arrives from all directions and imagine the forest, wearied, giving up the fight and floating into the sky. I imagine stars flickering behind moving groves overhead, the earth a flow of shadows, and a granular rain of dirt released by dangling roots. I find it a peaceful vision, this letting go of ancient woods, no longer stolid and strained, but relaxed and freed from the soil's confinement. Sometimes I think the wind is like a siren, singing of how there is nothing that could not benefit by being gifted with the ability to float free and ride the air. A walk in the floating woods by starlight would be nice.
by Theodore Roethke
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you? God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there, And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how? The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair; I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do To you and me; so take the lively air, And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know. What falls away is always. And is near. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go.