Speaker 1: Hey, thanks for being a part of the conversation. This
is Forest Stories. I am The Poet in the Forest,
a children's series that I pinned out in the nineteen nineties. Now,
none of it would be possible if it wasn't for
this forest right here in South Charlotte, North Carolina. I
talk about it so much that I thought maybe it's
time that you get to know what has inspired me
for thirty years. Thanks for being a part of the conversation.
Welcome back to the forest. Probably not one of the
prettiest stories this time around, and the reason why is
because it's a moment of understanding that you're not the
only one that's on this land that's enjoying these trees,
the birds singing, the hawk that's flying next to you,
and it's like we're all on the same walking time
period path. Sometimes you just want to write a letter
to him saying can you start five minutes earlier or later?
Because when Jazz and I are out here in this forest,
I don't need her going crazy because you brought your
dog along too. But once again, that's the selfish me
who happens to live in this forest, the Poet in
the Forest. If we could just fix our times, and
don't look at my dog as if you know my dog,
and try to understand that you think you can fix
my dog, because my dog in this forest is very
protective of each and every living thing. These are her dear,
that hawk is here for her. Ask her, she'll tell you,
Jazzy in the forest, if we could just have the
time and space to just be here alone. I know
it's being selfish, but that is who I am as
a writer. I write all by myself, I dream all
by myself. Shouldn't I be able to walk through this
forest all by myself? Of course, I want to turn
this into a joke because I know that's not going
to happen. And yet I am that poet that wishes
to one day win the lottery, because I would love
to buy every single home in this forest and get
rid of them and allow this forest to become the
force that it was before we all invaded it. But maybe,
just one time, sit down and talk with somebody who's
walking by, and say, can I leave five minutes earlier
so that I don't interrupt you? Can I send you
an email saying all right, Jesse and I are going
out into the forest. Can you just give us some
time so that we can just walk and listen to
the hawk, to spot the owls up in the tree,
To watch the playful squirrels as they do everything they
can to save every single nut for the winter. To
watch the pace of a falling leaf that was once
green but it's now bright red. Can you just hold
off for five minutes so that this moment of solitude
can belong to us? Is that being selfish? Hey, thanks
for being a part of the conversation.