Grove 4

And now he narrates and we begin to understand the meaning of the
place for him…


I smell the pine pitch, the fermenting needles. Coming back here after so long shaves years off, reimburses their toll. Seen through a veil of rain, the grove is peopled by some new faces who hurry on their chores. I feel invisible as I show her around. What feels familiar about this place at the end of the dead end road is some ancient force. It was here before and it has never left. It lurks under the white pine, and I feel emboldened by this primal force. What is clear under this rainy sky is that this place is a holy place, a place of passion and of sex and we are here on a pilgrimage and seeking communion.

Photo by W. Merganser

~ by W. Merganser on November 30, 2006.

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