February 13th, 2015 Aiako Harria yesterday, first time this year; overtaken by the beauty. It is at about this time along the hillsides and in the thickets that the brown of the end of winter starts mixing with the green of the beginning of spring. But an outing like this, though refreshing, can do nothing for the interior state of mind when one is tired and helpless; it only offers a slight reprieve, but we are back again, missing it: the sights, the sounds, the smell of the forest--somehow it only adds to the misfortune. It is difficult to wander along the thin trails because we have built up a reason and an inspiration for our coming; there is a goal, a new plant to find; something to be attained, a new path to take. All the expectation dies with each step, and yet it is still beautiful, still appealing, still the key to some secret meaning we have created for ourselves; and when we stop and look at it all, we realize we are merely the sum of our attainments, the sum that keeps
Here is a Valentine's Day excerpt from Woodland Poems entitled: Atheotha and Hayuya Hayuya: Love as dreams of deepest matter of night, For love that sleeps I take my care, Love purest-born, accepting sight, Forlorn of woman's touch upon my hair: For love of Atheotha I repair. Atheotha: Never have I dreamed of sympathy's sight For more to see in love to dream at night, Of he to be my only care; For love, my cares already white, With beads and purple shells I braid my hair. Hayuya: This moon was white this night my love was made, The night I saw a gleaming light, Dancing in the green-corn parade When quick my hand caressed her passing sight: Our eyes soon met and thought that love just might. When I was touched as by he