Traveling Light

When I step foot on the mountain

behind my house, I only ask for

two things: permission and

protection. I do not ask the gods 

for money. I ask for help to make do

with less. I’ve learned to travel

light: a paper sack, a buck knife,

and if I stumble across a field

of chanterelles that have fruited,

I make sure to leave some behind

for creatures that I share

the mountain with. Sometimes

I see them foraging too. 

Mostly I notice a few crowns

they’ve nibbled on, tiny mounds


and pungent trails of scat.

It’s important not to get caught up

in the attention of the gods.

Little winds leading me on

to a cache or trove are best met

with gratitude. Spiritual guides

who have gathered in my ears

like faint whispers so easy

to have missed—secret networks

of mycelium revealing themselves

after long dry spells. I pay attention

to the clouds, to moist payloads

able to elude unruly

forecasts. Sometimes it’s best

to leave your bug spray at home

and offer up instead  

a few drops of your own blood

and let the gods decide.

TIMOTHY LIU's latest book is Down Low and Lowdown: Bedside Bottom-Feeder BluesRead more.


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Late Summer, Last Light