Friday, September 25, 2009
Poem by Larry Robinson
Fog Drip
by Larry Robinson
Fog drip, they say,
replenishes the aquifer.
Redwood needles pull
moisture from the mist,
guiding it down to the roots -
and below.
Even in the driest years
these patient old ones
remain ever green.
Some elders are like that.
They find the goodness there is
and draw it down,
sustaining themselves
while feeding the deeper stream.
They don't demand attention;
they don't seek profit or approval.
Usually they don't even know
they are doing this.
Do the redwoods know - or care -
where the water goes?
Francis of Assisi called down grace
by the simple act of gratitude.
The foxes and the sparrows
drank deeply from his fog drip.
