| Swollen with
snow-melt this chilly May morning, my face reflected in the puddled path, commonly referred to as 'The Green Man', or leafy man, also
called Le Feuillou in French, and in German the Green Man image is called Blattqesicht.
In many of the old gothic churches, there is a face in the Church covered with leaves or
sometimes the leaves in these carvings or statues show leaves actually coming out of the
mouth, all around me green is resplendent in its
coat of arms. Seedlings
sway as a bird calls its mate. Only human voices rankle, as if left outside too long. I
sense synchronicity as potential for new language, as a woman and her dog trot past me
without missing a step.
Since I was
last here several trees have fallen, leaning over the trail. I
walk beneath them like a groom, entering a stone house with
no walls, tasting caustic smoke, cold embers, a bag of empty
beer cans tipped over. |
Disturbed
by my approach
a single goose
takes off
flying low
over the creek
disappearing
around a bend.
With almost
human smell I am
not good company
for man or beast. |
