I WANT YOU TO KNOW
I rekindle the fires within; those matters
you may have forgotten, they still live and I
can see them. Halfway up that hill, where
the little pine tree grows, that was once
my campsite - Cowaw, where we sat.
Cowaw, where we stayed. I sat bemused
by every rustle in the grass. All those
views towards westward skies, we watched
and saw them grow : the pale, long mask of
the Appalachian rim, high tops of rocks and
eddies of golden stammer; water steaming
in a new pool of stone. As I stayed there, so
I lived - a warrior honed and ready. I walked
three hundred miles, over time, to go forth and
to return to these loose-limbed lands that
were my home. I did a million things in my
natural time; at one with the Earth around me.
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