The Call of Wild

Where the wild calls, reaching, I tread softly through the underbrush, Listening to the syncopated silence, Feeling grace pulse through thorn and bark. I seek roots of divinity, In the fabric of lives sprouted new, And among the scraggly pines hear stories, Of whispers carried down into the soil. Nature dances through the chaos, An ancient and soft embrace, Where each turn speaks volumes, Every petal sighs love, Each stone yearns to tell us The depths from which they sprouted. Hear the call—step lightly, wander deep.

• Gary Snyder