One day I met a man who talked of glaciers and supple cottonwood bark.

He pauses to acknowledge a jabbering Blue Jay just as he pauses mid walk to acknowledge driftwood in my hands.

I thought it was just as beautiful too. 

I'll leave you with this- he says multiple times- then changes his mind and continues. 

He names trees and wooden rings and how he once loaded valley rocks into his station wagon.

I notice a small notepad and pen in his hand with tidy black letters 

Slanted on a light blue cusp and suddenly want to know what they say.

Word by word he smooths out a grain of apprehension on my shoulder 

Until the spring morning is more alive to me because it is so alive to him. 

If you gather flat glaciers stones, you can paint on those.

If you want to sandpaper your driftwood, it's quite receptive to wood burning or writing messages. 

"I call it drift words" he says. 

    One day I met an artist who left me with this.