West Coast Rainforest
a spiritual ecology
Here on the West Coast, the salt of circumspect washes steadily against the sea of verdure. Greening and etheric expansion prevail, the sprouting, moiling flora thrives and reproduces, roots itself into a constant crescendo. Here, none can turn away, because all directions are exposed. And none can hold in check the wheeling force that rises, anymore than the tidal range of the ocean can cease its endless respiration.
Ashore, as the eye and heart grow sated on outward effulgence, and turn within to look across the forest of soulhood, the seeker encounters a buffeting wind, ceaselessly wailing in sonic silence, blowing against all branching forces, delivering wind-in-bough-songs to a wild and vigilant audience.
In this coastal dominion we find a range of dwellers-in-habitat, from the diminutive wren, mouse-bird, in its fern-frond forest, up to old growth tree giants, who, in this ocean-edge environ, have evolved powerful rooting forces to withstand the great winds that prevail from across the waters.
In the morning light, the sea compels me to open my wings over the tide-flat of vision. By day, I will sing you a tree. I will dance you a stream. And when evening falls, I will orate for you a sunset, warmth and color twining into distant measures.
A small melodic bird spreads its wings by the seaweed leavings of the tidal bore. Song sparrow serenade, dulcet phrasing in the salt air, rises as a green-leafing melody beneath usnea whiskers,