Here in the foothills we wayfind with small cairns and pine knowledge. We’ve searched for the Button Rock Hermit through all our dreams and along all these trails but usually only see flashes of a tattered jacket and footprints on the dust and gravel. Sometimes the hermit seeps in through sap-scent and gets around our lungs, our hearts. Sometimes she gets around our synapses, some soul. It’s during these times that we can know why the trees creak in the calm wind and why the chickadees are brave.
limb tied in a knot —
why come by here