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A FARM CUT OUT OF THE GREAT FOREST ON THE WESTERN SIDE OF THE HOOD CANALTHOUGHTS AFTER A DAY OF RIDING AND DODGING LITTLE CREATURES TRYING TO MAKE THEIR WAY ACROSS THE HIGHWAY. I could claim this is a picture of me, but it's Roland. Until they hear us speak, people continue to assume we're brothers. I took this photo as he came up behind me on Highway 101 north of Shelton, Washington.

IT ALL DEPENDS

Making its way through the grass
in a few square yards of meadow,
what does the inch worm see or feel of the world?
Maybe feeling is more important than seeing...
The turtle crossing a not-so-busy road
never knows the peril in its journey.
Running in the deep forest or grazing by the mountain stream,
the deer is in little danger if no hunter is near.

Mowing machines, trucks, and hungry wolves change everything.
A lone bicyclist on a real journey seldom thinks he is vulnerable.
Aloneness is delicious and for long stretches of time
the asphalt roadway is the only reality.
A looming log truck in the side mirror changes everything.

Zooming along her trajectory in the solar system,
Mother Earth, like the inch worm, is a tiny living thing
relative to the vastness of space and time.
She is no more aware of the approaching meteor
than the earthworm is of the hooves of grazing cattle
or the deer is of the hunter in the bushes.
Perspective is everything.
We impose terror on ourselves by knowing too well what can happen.