esperance calling

follow myriad routes of varying lengths
past aspens beeches cedars and larches
it’s not required or conducive to spiritual reflection
but how else would you see a hellbender or red eft
or be attentive to the gentle sounds around you:
breezes whipping through pine boughs
birds chattering and choking on negativism
the incessant buzz of overhead drones
tides crashing on the shipwrecks of fortune
the glug of rocky shores glutted in oil and red tide
or the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of a child buried in rubble

take the path least trod for a change

What I’m Reading:

“No matter how many people take to the streets in massive marches or in targeted direct actions, they cannot put their hands on the real flows of power, because they do not help produce it. They only consume.”

— Roy Scranton / Learning to Die in the Anthropocene