13

Cold Mountain Poem #290



Relaxing below Cold Cliff

the surprises are quite special

taking a basket to gather wild plants

bringing it back loaded with fruit

spreading fresh grass for a simple meal

nibbling on magic mushrooms

rinsing my ladle and bowl in a pool

making a stew from scraps

sitting in sunshine wrapped in a robe

reading the poems of the ancients ‍




— Cold Mountain, Translated by Red Pine, in The Collected Songs Of Cold Mountain, Copper Canyon Press


Thank you for calling The Botanarchy Hotline. The Botanarchy Hotline is medicine disguised as a poem, delivered through the portal of your phone. It’s a ham-radio séance between you and the living Earth, for those ready to be bewildered back to life.

The transmission at the end of your telephone line is Episode 13: Sitting In Sunshine Wrapped In A Robe. It’s the Autumn Equinox, Summer cracks its last jokes in the dry creek beds, as oaks rattle their acorns like dice, waiting for the first cold hand to shake them loose. 

Today on the hotline, instead of my usual nattering about ancient poets, sultry peaks, or why clouds make better calendars than clocks, I’m doing something a little different. This week, (833) ECO-POEM shapeshifts into a listening grove, where I’m joined by one of my favorite wild storytellers: Michelle Fullner -- writer, naturalist, and host of the Golden State Naturalist podcast, whose voice turns California’s rivers, ridgelines, and redwoods into radiant story. Together, we trade field notes from the season’s edge: bats tossed like confetti, creek-side oak climbing, goat-bathing surrealism, and the small splendors that remind us summer is best farewelled with laughter and awe.