From Below

One of the things I'd like to do this year is read more poetry. An easy place for me to begin is with Denise Levertov. I discovered her, well, over a year ago now, back in the Fall of 2008, when Andy was doing a Poetry as Prayer class at St. Tim's.

I read this poem yesterday, and have pondered it, simply remembering the giant redwoods of Northern California, and the lovely tall pines of the Cenacle. This photo was taken "from below" in the Redwood Forests. Remember?

I move among the ankles
of forest Elders, tread
their moist rugs of moss,
duff of their soft brown carpets.
Far above, their arms are held
open wide to each other, or waving--

what they know, what
perplexities and wisdoms they exchange,
unknown to me as were the thoughts
of grownups when in infancy I wandered
into a roofed clearing amidst
human feet and legs and the massive
carved legs of the table,

the minds of people, the minds of trees
equally remote, my attention then
filled with sensations, my attention now
caught by leaf and bark at eye level
and by thoughts of my own, but sometimes
drawn to upgazing--up and up: to wonder
about what rises
so far above me into the light.