|My Tracks Stop Here|
I sat through the afternoon in the silent, still forest. The sunny day was punctuated with raven fly-overs. A few nuthatches hopped about the upper canopy. I took a sea shell and a grouse feather out of the pack, symbols of my journey, and left them at the base of her trunk. Sprinkled some tobacco.
"Take time. Take time. Take time to unfold the divinity," she said. "Own who you are."
Empty space enveloped us.
I closed the door behind her and unwrapped a tamale. It smelled divine. One bite confirmed she'd been successful with her experiment. Darkness enveloped the mesa as Geminid shooting stars trailed across the sky. I moved to my computer and without plan or forethought, ordered a new camera. Not a doubt in my mind, or spirit, that Grandmother Tree was winking up there on the mountainside.
(Details of my relationship with Grandmother Tree are spelled out in Drive Me Wild: A Western Odyssey, my latest book.)