for the children

 

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I will walk to a place with a high cliff, and camp by the lake there at evening, and study the grand firs and the nobles reflected in the water made still by the evening. 

I will sit by the fire and consider, and lie down to count stars, and sleep, and in sleep dream dreams of green bones. 

When the morning arrives, grey and cold, I will rise and walk to the high place, bringing with me a drum I have made, and a song for my scattered people. 

There, on the rock, where no one will hear, I will sing the sun up, and name names, and the names will be holy to me.


—Richard Bear
Hoedad (reforestation)

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The rising hills, the slopes,
of statistics
lie before us.
the steep climb
of everything, going up,
up, as we all
go down. 

In the next century
or the one beyond that,
they say,
are valleys, pastures,
we can meet there in peace
if we make it. 

To climb these coming crests
one word to you, to
you and your children: 

stay together
learn the flowers
go light 


—Gary Snyder  

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