2001
Treasures Stored Away In Secret Places
by Toni Babcock
Sterling River was a glassy ribbon winding quietly to Curtain Falls,
Not shouting as some waters do,
But whispering all the way to hidden paths in the forest.
I watched her dip and twirl,
I listened as she sang her gentle song around my paddle.
There were many rivers, she was but one. There were many paths.
Each led to treasures stored away in secret places.
A huge, expansive shield of rock was one such treasure.
It spread before me, cresting and melding into the forest like a gigantic altar.
Ancient people must have rested at that crest to wonder long before.
They must have paused to see the boulders scattered whimsically about.
Did they wonder how they came?
As they delighted in the broken rays of sun that danced along the way,
Did they reach down to touch?
Did they walk soft among the lichen?
I remember other paths...soft and sunken paths;
Surprising, delightful, enchanting paths.
Once I chased beside the long expanse of Basswood Falls.
Soon the moon would rise to sparkle on the lake.
There I breathed the heady scent of cedar, pine and balsam.
There the cool embrace of night erased my years.
I ran for joy.
I remember the serenade of loons by night.
What strange peace the dark of wilderness brings.
I remember the eagles by day.
How they beckon deeper into the forest,
Circling as if to ask, "Who are you?"
In reality, it is I who ask the question, but can never really know.
I can only observe and wonder.
It’s true that wilderness cannot be enjoyed without its calculated risk.
It can make me fear.
But this cannot erase the pleasures it has brought me.
These pleasures are forever in the bank of my remembrance.
These are treasures stored away in secret places.
