Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside 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 bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

Lost, by David Wagoner

This poem was waiting for me when I came back into the Garden Lounge for tea and cake after spending a morning walking the paths through the grounds and sitting quietly on a tree stump, listening to bird song It was in a box of handwritten cards, with a simple sign next to it saying 'Please take one'. This one was on top; I picked it up out of curiosity and it was only when I was sitting with it over my tea that words began sink in. Another gift to give Spirit thanks for.