The Jump

I have jumped.  I have shot out of the starting line before the bang that says go.  Fall has hardly arrived this first week of September.  True, I have seen a few dashes of color other than green in the treetops.  I have felt a small drop in the temperature in the mornings and evenings but nothing of real significance. I did  use the word harbinger so I suppose I can be forgiven my excesses and maintain whatever credibility I might have.

The deep dark and hypnotic green of George's Gap is still mine to consider for  another month, maybe more and so I will. The natural world seduces, siren-calls me into thinking there is another life to be lived outside the transit of money, confusions of daily news, amusements of the latest gadets.  A life to be lived outside the enclosure of this 21st century biospheric life.

As I drive up, over and through the Gap I am able to look so deeply into the forest that the trees themselves vanish and everything becomes simply dark, green and very very soft.  I start to feel that I could walk into these woods and pass into that softness.  I start to feel my animal bones. They want to move into this beguiling spaciousness.  They wish to snort, to graze, to look at the dappling blue of the sky through the tree's great heights. They wish to perhaps find another of their kind and play. They wish to drink from the small clear springs.  They wish to move in a state of grace.

I shake my head, consider the road and continue on my way into a world that is everything the forest is not.  If I'm lucky I'll take part of this luminous green world with me.  The bone's poem, deep inside the muscle, deep inside the flesh, is green.  Deeply,