back into the deep forest
the olympic rain forest – it’s not raining, today. there are wildfires, over the next ridge
here, in the quinault basin, it’s quiet, deep, old..
the width of 1000 rings, the annual circles of the growth go wide, far beyond our reach
what have they seen? each ring, holds the tracings of our ancestors, long passed on
the largest western red cedar, the largest sitka spruce – the ancients, towering, embracing, protecting, and watching all that has been
hurricane force winds, lightning strikes, floods, earthquakes, droughts, fires – and yet they stand, alive. stepping into the hollow of the cedar, a sacred place, this cathedral of life
these trees that surround us still, only 100 years old, the protected ones, now.