Wilderness Poem

I go out in the wilderness

and there

let the Earth

think me.

I don’t mean “think me”

like something mystical.

As I begin to understand

some of the patterns with which it speaks (spirals, the Fit, gradients)

I start to catch some of its drift

and what it sounds like is a very good teacher,

usually speaking beyond my ken

but speaking with a wisdom

that comes only

after

six billion years

and still being alive.

So I listen carefully

trying to understand well enough

that I can think such meanings on my own.

In that way the Earth thinks me.