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Some forests never fear the fury of March bending a tree,
their Redwoods and Giant Sequoias provide good shelter
from winds and storms that occasionally begin at sea;
in this woodland, the wood thrush and the blue warbler
have made their home and they're happy to see a wanderer...
when night descends all sounds are muffled by the loud cooing
of owls with fluorescent eyes that scare the black and gray crows;
they keep on watching the faint shadows similar to fog rising.

In the depths of the densest forest stands a brown limestone hut,
where the white-bearded keeper carries his Michigan ax to cut
wood for the evening fire to keep hungry bears and wolves away;
he searches for sweet blueberries and raspberries walking slowly, 
he finds some ripe papaws he'll roast with a tender yellow perch
he caught in a small pound by the shade of a reddish-brown birch.

I met pale-faced Tom two summers ago, we bumped into each other
on a winding trail that led to an open meadow wilder and greener
than the ones turned arid from intense sunlight with a straight line;
he complained about his loneliness and the longing for sunshine.

" Stop by anytime, I can share my adventures gladly, you can write them
as the hunting images take me back to the days when I steered the helm
of a ship with agile hands into the turbulent oceans testing my strength:
I was called captain brave, not born in an age of such fragility and dearth. "

And Tom went on with his long and exciting narrative, I listened...
somehow embodying his intrepid spirit, " Look at your surroundings,
Nature is so generous, it offers us wonderful gifts and teaches us grit;
if we obey its laws, it won't turn against us, and under these shady trees
that protect me as they always do: I expect no frigid days, only mild days. " 
Tom glanced at the cloudless sky of noon; it made him happy, not sad. "
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