Redwood Canopy Explorer
I hang in the spaces between canopies
and when I pause for breath it hits me—
the total silence. Even my mental chatter
vanishes. Just me and these ancient beings
and the rain they filter from the fog
dripping on my glistening skin.
I glide in a wordless mist. All that holds me
to the spinning planet is a little rope.
I start to soar as if the needles sprouted feathers,
my muscles tensed for flight. And when I land
its on a hanging garden of fern-mats
ninety metres high, to kneel on its altar.
Every dip into the chalice of a sky-pool
yields an unknown species. Everything is dawn-new.