And so my dear Poet,
We had dinner this lovely evening, outdoors, under the the watchful eye of Mt. Rose,
A stately woman,.. A shapely woman.. and a very wise woman, I must say.... and we listened to the quail call..
And I thought, I am so glad they are out there, although I did not see them.. It is comforting to know they are there.. I have to know..
there is space for me and thee
and that cougar behind the tree
and I wish the "others" could only see,
If we can not get there, it is still okay.. If that tree falls in the forest, it is still heard, I know, by the jay, by the ground squirrel, by the mule deer, by the Wapiti, by the western bluebird, and of course, by John Muir ..
And so that wildness has to be preserved, whether it is in me, thee,.. or that redwood tree..
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