In that moment, when we watch the distant stars
topple and fall into our eyes,
when time cascades over us,
sweeping us into the nebulous origins,
we won’t think or feel.
We’ll become the alphabet the trees sing
during their long, lonely vigil over the fields,
music our ears strained toward
all of our lives, us never knowing.
~Carole Borges-Rosen, from ‘Dreamseeker’s Journey’
photo: from 2019, an all-time favorite summer campsite following a brief rain, sitting immediately adjacent to a pond with an ever-busy family of beavers that reside here, always in motion, constant action, sometimes so busy and productive the campsite has to be abandoned entirely. Bring rubber boots, a half-gallon of deet, and some variety of screen structure, as the ratio of bugs-to-humans in this spot around about June through August is approximately 300-million-to-1. Sleep, however, takes place in a portable steel structure (made by Ford) which tends to dissuade any potential ursine problems.