Stand Still.
The trees ahead and bushes besides 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.
Wherever you are. You must let it find you.
—David Wagoner
Reading Wagoner’s poem makes me want to kiss a tree.