Forest Songs (JM)

 (Joseph MacRae, various dates)

Forest Songs

(a six part series)

The Pond

Real town, in real wilderness. Rare these days,

but it was home to me. 1940’s and 50’s. 

I was “Doc’s kid” then (“Come on in dear,

have some hot chocolate”). We hunted,

tanned furs. Long forest walks, 

sun on the beach. And in the winter,

the pond.

It didn’t freeze long. Had to catch the magic

right away. Big bonfire in the center,

ice-lights dazzling neath the moon.

Everyone came. Everyone smiled. 

Your worst enemy that night your pal. 

Kids, adults, everyone. Some skated.

Some chatted. As the trees gently watched,

their silence holding the laughter. 

Till we ambled home to hot cider and bed,

dreams of a pond catching starlight.

Till sunbeams peep in, waken 

to another day. 

That Day Surrounded

A young Coastie fresh out of high school,

sure could relate to the bears. And

happily I was stationed some on Kodiak Island.

Beloved to the Orthodox, beloved to the wild ones. 

But boy, my Angel he must’ve been saying his prayers,

that day surrounded by Kodiak bears. 

Started out normally enough. A day off, long hike. 

But my rifle dropped, plugged, couldn’t shoot.

Aidios to any critter protection. Could’ve turned back.

But didn’t. Walking along the river’s when it happened–-

Fresh bear tracks everywhere! Droppings still warm.

Bears right there, hidden. Letting me pass unharmed.

It’s the oddest feeling, watched like that, 

surrounded by the bear people. 

Guess that’s when I knew

they were my people too. But still,

My Angel he must’ve been saying his prayers,

that day surrounded by Kodiak bears.

Right there on that island (now I’m Orthodox too.)

These words--my try, to thank him.

INSERT Saga of the Sawmill (see here)

Speaking Silence

I don’t know when it happened. Well, it 

had before sometimes. Those quick

Signs of the Cross and Hail Marys at work 

to ward off danger. Between all the buzzing,

and the crashing–-glimpses. But now, 

it wouldn’t let go. And found myself 

working more and more for the other side.

Oh yes, forestry, wildlife management and all. 

Inching closer and closer to that song of silence. 

The animals, they knew it. Spoke it. Bears,

red tail hawks, wolves, even salmon. 

And the trees, it was the old ones. 

Spirit trees, they call them.

Why couldn’t I stop looking?

And listening…

INSERT Mountaineer Tree (see here)

INSERT Peace Tree, Peace Arch (see here)

Still Sung

There’s room for both, you know.

Let in, let go. Breathe in, breathe out. 

Life, death, renewal. Learned it 

from the red tail hawk. Up there,

circling, watching, hearing the cries.

And the forest does cry. 

Sometimes for nurture. 

Sometimes to prune. 

That is, if you listen.

So red tail hawk, he doesn’t squawk 

empty words. He circles. Keen eye below, 

ancient healing in tow, swoops down. 

Ancient eyes to look upon the now. 

And to listen–-forest songs

still sung.