Diving with this trail into the steep canyon,
I pass a cluster of laurel trunks arching
crazily, a many-armed sea monster
ready to snare the unwary.
High above, the wind roars with the sound
of distant breakers as it shreds fog
through the crowns of adolescent redwoods.
Here below, in the sheltered stillness,
the trunks, all verticality, slowly sway;
a kelp forest drifting with tide and current,
birds like fish, flitting among the shadows.
Submerged in these peaceful depths,
I’m far from drowning; I breathe
deeply and my spirit soars.
If I raise my arms, give a kick,
might the current catch and carry me
gliding through the forest?
Alan Howe is a writer, avid bird watcher, and retired librarian and pastor living in Oakland, California.