In the long, quiet walk to solitude,
each step feels uncertain.
Slips, trips—mud clings to my feet,
yet no step is lost.
Nature abides in every leaning,
silently tending each footprint.
Though my breath is unsteady,
her daily rhythms remain unshaken.
Leaning on her roots and branches,
remembering the seasons of growth and decay,
my heart aligns with her spacious pace.
Her winds comb my tangled thoughts.
Just this—alive, like a tall cypress
rooted in both heaven and earth.
Just this—flowing, like a mountain river
untethered in cold turbulence.
When the loud, modern realm overwhelms,
she offers her hand in trust.
This smile, these senses—
bloom with wild enthusiasm again.
Primitive Joe 