Moss Beach, California Photo Adventure

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig sang under my tongue,
its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood--
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
                                 Lost in the Forest
                                 by Pablo Neruda


Grove Trees
A Broken Twig and 1001 Patterns
Yellow Moss
Ancient Trees at the Hillside
 Youngling trees across the hillside by the creek (Touched by water)

Note:  All photos by Alice


  1. Here's a poem inspired by the Neruda one and your photo of the moss:

    “Wounded by the wandering scent”
    after Neruda

    I want to reach into the computer screen and bite the yellow moss fuzzing the monitor, like bee pollen, a cat’s paw before the strike. I’m not there, but here where the birch trees outside take their time to shed bark, until it’s safe and ready and quiet. I’m not there, but here where the basil plant on the patio brightens at sun burning the gray morning layer. A mile from here lives a grove of Redwoods and I sat beneath one, thinking of the wandering scent of home, a home within this one, the sheets of paper on my lap half-sung, half-told.

  2. Beautiful poem Rayshelay!!! Thanks for sharing


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