When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."
By Mary Oliver, from New and Selected Poems
h/t: LoraKim Joyner
Speaking of trees, I'm off to cover a fire ecology symposium in the far north of California, at Soames Bar. I think the phrase "middle of nowhere" may apply…look for it in the upper lefthand corner.