Everywhere I go

Everywhere I Go
I come for the quiet —
and what do I hear?
The crashing of the creek
tumbling its way past rock and limb.
The slipping of the wind
between the needles of the treetops.
The buzz of the mosquito hovering
for its next meal.

I come for the stillness —
and everywhere there is movement.
Bubbles popping and water splashing,
insects darting on breezes,
wave of the willows
greeting the ferns.

I come for renewal —
destruction is everywhere.
Trees rotting, flowers dying.
My own steps dislodging infant plants, crushing pinecones.

I come to retreat —
everywhere life reaches out.
Flowers beckoning
the bees and butterflies.
Rocks in the creek bed
anticipating the water’s caress.
Water scrambling without pause
eager to beat gravity downhill.
Fern’s sprout unfurling
into the heat of summer.

I come to stretch
my limbs and move my body —
and everywhere I turn
I am beckoned to stop and take note,
to rest and be comforted,
to pay honor to this special place
and name its rugged beauty.

Everywhere I go,
I am already here.