He has slipped away from my minimalist’s room..I was distracted by my need to vacume, and that nuisance sleep. He left the window open a tad, drawn by the wild geese on the grass below. Left for the hills leaving one thread of plaid wool behind on the pillow. My muse has headed for the hills. Hitching from the city, a quick ride with a chatty Theologian, who drops him off beside, the Sooke River Bridge. It’s early spring, brown water running high. Hear him whistling with joyful stride,cold to his knees through slide alder, past ferns and deep Salal, the mossy fallen nurse logs, skunk cabbage trail side..Big raindrop on skunk cabbage, off the path in the bog, neath the boardwalk. The morning sun has warmed Godfrey as wandering he passed. And the crystal drops on the broad leaf’s rim, has caught his eye and facinated him. He has stopped, and knelt and thought..”What worlds unseen are held within this water drop”?..Damp the forest canopy steamed, Godfrey lay back on his pack to dream.A Vagabond’s dream of peace on Earth, all possible seen, in a clean skunk cabbage raindrop..My muse has headed for the hills.