The breeze was what moved me here,
To a wooded hillside, a forest patch,
a place soft and mild.
But then, the same wind began to wind
all around and through
The creaking cedars,
Pushing and posturing above
My small comprehension of Nature
A big idea for a little girl
Alone in a forest.
Yet in my own long fingers,
The gentle manipulation of my own joints
I can hear that same creaking,
Evidence of strong solids,
Bone and wood, and
Finding the joint, the junction,
the soft spot b etween the two,
I am cherishing the creak
that lets me know
Power is close.
The intangible shall inherit the earth,
For what seemed meek only yesterday
Is a hurricane of hope, a riptide of revelation.
I am in that forest finding
My own mortal limits and potential
mirrored i n the groan and grunt of the cedars
Living high overhead.
-Audrey Camp, 2007-