My Guide to the Adirondacks

This is not a guide.

But it can be philosophy.

When you sleep in the sedan,

Wake up on Algonquin.

And smell the lichen.

This is not a philosophy.

But it can be mathematics.

When you count the ripples,

Left by the beaver.

And pine pollen in the wind.

This is not mathematics.

But it can be religion.

When the light from the Saranac,

Passes through your eyes.

And shadows live in your heart.

This is not religion,

But it can be a friend.

When you feed the gray jay,

Touch the tamarack.

And share the grief.

This is a friend.

And it can be more.

When you listen to the lore,

Of the gushing water.

Son and mother.

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