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Thursday, February 25, 2010

Redwood forests make their own weather
they churn fog from the air like butter from milk
it is their fog
the breath of trees
and it's impossible
when inside that forest
not to get that.
you breath in it.

I miss, miss, miss that fog
which empties the world of sound
and pours instead its scent.

the wild company of giants
shared by bobcats and lions, jays and deer.
a living place.

the parallax of shadows
when the sun is given a peek
inside.

Put yourself in a ray of light
get on your knees and put your eyes
down. Look. You've never seen anything
so fine and rare as the sun touching the floor
of a redwood forest.

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