Not long ago Loki and I walked the Institute of Forest Genetics grounds - open to the public again after winter storms. The place I needed to walk on the morning Hatch died. This poem recalls that late-April walk:
Back to the Forest
The morning you left, I missed
my intended turn and somehow found myself
at the arboretum gate.
The steady patience, the quiet
healing of a forest.
A sign said Arboretum Closed.
Trees fallen across trails,
one on top of another in winter storms,
woods unsafe for public walking.
I told the lady at the desk about you –
old forester, search-and-rescue partner
who showed me this place,
taught me to walk on shaky ground.
Your spirit still alive here
to walk with me among breathing trees.
How could she say no?
~ Taylor Graham
