Stand of Oregon old growth.
Oregon Lakeshore Trail #656, at Inlet Creek.
My footfalls
drum the root chambers
of the old growth
each step
cushioned by centuries of needle-drop
deep in this ancient forest
enjoying the rise and fall
twist and turn of the trail
I’ve circled a portion
of the cerulean mountain lake
crooked walking stick
smooth in my right hand
rounding a bend in the trail
brushing through waist-high fern
when to my left
in my peripheral
glimpses through the old-growth
flashes of rippled sterling
dance
sparkling in scattered sunlight
lost lake
old as time
steel deep
glacial cold
seductively enchanting
a few more steps
I crest a knoll
come upon a restless brook
and stop
mesmerized
I have arrived
wandering into my wonderland
filtered by the towering woodland canopy
light drifts down dreamlike
settles golden
into the natural cathedral before me
a downed giant redwood
the perfect natural alter
sacred and serene
were it a manmade cathedral
or a grande ballroom
truly gorgeous
might describe it
but this is so much more
breathtaking
falls short
even magnificent
feels wanting
a cool lake breeze
enfolds me
filled with the heady scent
of the living earth
cascade red cedar
douglas fir
ponderosa pine
moss
fern
bark
loam
wildflower
ionized mountain air
intoxicated
I grow very quiet
listening
with my soul
to the majestic still
breathing in the ancient
I become this moment
rapt
in touch with my spirit
with all of existence
with the eternal
transcendent
in this paradise
Mt Hood seen from Oregon Lakeshore Trail #656 just before old growth stand.
This is the natural gateway on Trail #656 opening on the old growth stand.
Both well over 200 feet tall, and hundreds of years old.
1/2 mile ahead you leave the path, wandering into the heart of the giants!
mighty sentinels
guardians of the old growth
may ever you stand
*
rob kistner © 2022
more wild stillness poetry at: earthweal
You have often written about how you have become part of this land. Lovely, as always.
Thank you Kerfe… 🙂
There’s an ancient drum beat to this forest walk, Rob. Wonderful poem..JIM
Thank you very much Jim… 🙂
“mesmerized
as before
I have arrived
wandering into my wonderland”
Beautiful lines. This is a wonderful poem. I enjoyed the Haiku too. 🙂
Thank you Kitty… 🙂
This sounds like a true paradise, Rob: beautiful!
Thank you Ingrid. Walking into that ancient forest, one of the oldest in North America, is like walking into another time and place, a deep and magical place. It has been a number of years since my health has allowed me to make the trek, but I can still close my eyes, and feel the energy. I am so deeply thankful that I was able to wander for years, through this enchanted realm!
The pictures may help, but through your words I can visualize each step you take.
Thank you Ken… 🙂
Your photos are glorious, Rob. I lost a day or two , it seems, sorry to be late coming by. The news makes me quieter and quieter. I wandered the old growth with you, so vividly captured in every line.
Thank you Sherry! Glad you could join me my friend. 🙂
GAH. My long comment disappeared. I am slow getting around to your poem, Rob, I lost a day or two somewhere. Your photos are glorious. I wandered the old growth with you, so perfectly described in every line of this poem.
They all posted Sherry — and I appreciate your persistence… 😉
“Cathedral” is truly the right word for this forest sanctuary. What a blessing.
Before my health failed, I would hike trail #656, and paddle out to fish Lost Lake (no motors allowed) 6-8 times between May and Sept/Oct — depending on when the snow fell in the high mountains and essentially made the long road up impassable. It was 2-hrs road trip each way, up then back. The 2nd hour on winding, unimproved logging roads, final 45 min on gravel. I made that trek for over 20 years, and I loved it so! When I wasn’t fishing that high mountain destination, I’d fish the Willamette River (very close to my home) just above the Falls (15 min), or the wilderness upper Clackamas River region (reasonably close to home). A 15 min to 45 min, depending how far up I went. Liked the damed deep water of the North Fork region, putting my boat in at Promontory. My last time up to Lost Lake was my 68th birthday, just prior to my 3rd heat attack, and my status shifting to fragile diabetic with peripheral neuropathy in my feet. My ashes will be spread up there by my son.