Finding My Walden

I ventured away from home today,
which is required to escape the blandness of the shore where I live
in order to revel in the majesty of the woods.

It’s a treat, these days, to find a slice of nature that is
nearly undisturbed by the hands of man and modern machinery.
I arrive at the nature preserve and find that I
have the 1.5-mile trail almost to myself.
A welcome gift on a beautifully-warm weekend summer afternoon.

My walking stick guides me along the sandy lanes.
Pine trees, as far as the eye can see, tuck me comfortably in.
I hear movement below a tree, I turn and watch a chipmunk
dart behind me across the trail.

Hurried footsteps appear and a woman runs by,
breathing heavily as her exercise routine spirits her along.
I imagine that much is missed at her pace.
Nature passes her by without a stolen glance.
I purposely slow down my gait
to take it all in.

It’s a sublime feeling to be alone in the woods,
to be one with the trees, the wind, the animals and the birds.
In the distance, loud music interrupts the quiet and
serene peacefulness that nature emits.

I have found nothing that matches the soothing
orchestral sounds of the leaves rustling in the wind,
the chipmunks chittering away, and
the birds fluttering overhead,
singing and conversing with their winged brethren.

We humans do not understand that silence allows us to
fully enjoy nature’s moods.
It helps encapsulate, within us, her purity, spirit and tenderness.
At times, I halt my progress, for my feet make too much noise,
to allow myself to become enraptured by the myriad natural sounds
and sights all around me.

A monarch butterfly floats down and flutters within inches of my nose,
as if to say hello.
A cobweb strung across the trail momentarily impedes my progress.
Meanwhile, the birds continue to chitter above my head.

The inevitable grotesque presence of mankind’s technological
ingenuity ruins a short stretch of this land.
Concrete tubes lay abandoned and graffitied,
while large steel towers carry high-powered
electrical lines overhead.

Then, as I begin to traverse the far side of the pond,
I pass a young woman jogging up the trail.
Her sweet aroma pleasantly stands out
amidst the natural fragrances of pine and wild flowers.

The trail on this side, to my left, drops down to the pond below.
Harsh cuts in the soil indicate where water has rushed down
during torrential rains.
I sit and pause on a wooden bench for a few moments.
Again, I marvel, in wonderment, how this place reminds me of Walden Pond.

Henry David Thoreau,
that wise old sage of Concord,
once stated that others should seek
to find their own Walden Pond where they live.
Today, I believe I have found mine right here.