It’s home and it’s not. It’s old and it’s young, and it’s far and it’s near, and it’s in my body and also dancing along my skin, dancing away too fast for me to grab at it. It’s loving and it’s stern. It’s generous and it’s cruel. It’s every feeling I ever associated with God, but instead of a church of stone and glass, it’s here in the woods, suffusing every particle of air and darkness and damp with burning, bright life.
