Funny how wild silences are filled with the sounds and songs of wild creatures and even silence is a sound. Wild silence is not the absence of sound. It is the absence of us.
And yet, silence invites us to recover our wildness within and so we compose our poems and our walking in the winter woods. And with hearty friends knowing the promise of a quiet morning and later, a blazing fire. And the value of good socks, wool hat.
Poetry is a path into traceless places and so we follow. Join us if you love winter, new snow, and the creative impulses of your wilder self.
— Jack Phillips
Poetics of Place: Late Winter with The Naturalist School. Contact Jack: firstname.lastname@example.org.