Unfortunate Location

In the front yard there are three big white pines, older than any-
thing in the neighborhood except the stones. Magnificent trees that
toss their heads in the wind like the spirited black horses of a troika.
It’s hard to know what to do, tall dark trees on the south side of the
house, an unfortunate location, blocking the winter sun. Dark and
damp. Moss grows on the roof, the porch timbers rot and surely
the roots have reached the old bluestone foundation. At night, in
the wind, a tree could stumble and fall killing us in our beds. The
needles fall year after year making an acid soil where no grass grows
We rake the fallen debris, nothing to be done, we stand around with
sticks in our hands. Wonderful trees.
by Louis Jenkins 

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

by Wendell Berry

Friends

 How far friends are! They forget you,
most days. They have to, I know; but still,
it’s lonely just being far and a friend.
I put my hand out—this chair, this table—
So near: touch, that’s how to live.
Call up a friend? All right, but the phone
itself is what loves you, warm on your ear,
on your hand. Or, you lift a pen
to write—it’s not that far person
but this familiar pen that comforts.
Near things: Friend, here’s my hand.

by William Stafford

Creature to Creature

Almost too late to walk in the woods, but I did,
anyway. And stepping aside for a moment
from the shadowy path to enter
darker shadow, a favorite circle of fir trees,
received a gift from the dusk:
a small owl, not affrighted, merely
moving deliberately
to a branch a few feet
further from me, looked
full at me—a long regard,
steady, acknowledging, unbiased.

by Denise Levertov 

"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." (Rumi)

“The earth has disappeared beneath my feet,
It fled from all my ecstasy,
Now like a singing air creature
I feel the Rose
Keep opening.”
~ Hafiz