In the newest issue of Nature is a report from archeologists who found, in northeast China fossils of a previously unknown dinosaur that was some 30 feet long and COVERED WITH FEATHERS -- fluffy as a baby chick, they say. Picture that bus size beast walking down the road looking all fluffy and cuddly. Boggles the brain a bit, doesn't it? Sounds sort of Dr. Seuss-ish, in fact. That was 125 million years ago.
Today's poem will tickle the imagination a little too, but in a nicer way.
Stand still. The trees and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here. And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you. If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here No two trees are the same to Raven, No two branches are the same to Wren, If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!