Coureur des Bois

I am ten running
In the woods in
Giant City State
Park in southern
Illinois feeling the
Breeze on my face
Up hill and down dale
Reveling in my imitation
Of the French Canadian
Runners of the woods,
Les couriers de bois.
Thirty years later I
Above 9,000 feet in
The Ponderosa and aspen
Woods of the Gila Wilderness
Walking along still thinking
Of how much things have
Changed and stayed
The same in the
Deep woods of
My heart,
I love
The
Woods
Hills mountains
Creeks and streams
Dark shadows in
The woods to
Learn to see,
Make no
Sound
And
Listen
To the wind
Waters trees.
Now I am 72 venturing
Another thirty years later
Again onto the great oceans
And seas working on ships
Giving lectures on history
Pacific Polynesians
Baltic vikings
Atlantic explorers
Mediterranean ancients
Pirates of the Caribbean,
Exchanging the deep woods
For the waves still listening for
The wind under the stars
The voice of the waters,
Still knowing almost
Nothing about
Almost
Everything,
Yet I can still look
Up at the night sky
Across a vast expanse
From our spirally arm
Of stars and worlds
To behold afar our
Milky Way like
A diamond
Bracelet
On black velvet,
If not my next
Venture then
One day,
Our
Descendants
Dream to
Make it
So,
Runners
Of the stars
Coureur des étoiles.