THIS PACE

Why was it

    so silent

alone in the

    dark woods?

Not a sound

    in the scrub

near bluffs,

    eerily quiet.

I arrived to

    observe wild-

life but

              night came

and never

    there before,

the pace

    reflected

my deter-

    mination:

to get to

    bed 2 hours

      away on foot.

Now I feel

    a fool, rush-

ing to be some-

    place else strive

for my destin-

    ation, like a car

or mad dog of

   bad behavior.

The animals

                were fear-

ful of my

   wake of old

lessons. I

     woke may-

be even

   the birds,

because a fast

    pace is where

predators follow.

     Isolated by

my own do-

    ing, yearn-

ing to recip-

    rocate with

surroundings:

     atoms and the

universe, re-

    flections, pat-

         terns in nature,

                             vs. 
                    
                        this pace

                    of concrete

                and oil,

wondering

       how to

    express my

humanity?

This is an epilogue to the earlier poem Tuning in Point Reyes. 

photo above: SF 12.23.13, an unknown but beautiful fungi bloom

photo here below: SF 8.9.13, California oak moth larva: Phryganidia californica