204 BEACH GRASS 



are many nights when I am engulfed in Stygian 

 darkness the moment I enter the forest. Partly 

 by the feel of the well trodden path on the fallen 

 leaves and pine needles, and partly by my 

 familiarity with the individual trees and knowl- 

 edge of all the twists and turns of the path, I 

 can generally reach my goal. Sometimes I stray 

 and am temporarily lost. My attitude on the 

 walk is that of a suppliant, with hands extended 

 and clasped lest any sapling steal through my 

 guard and smite me in the face. For the time 

 being I am a blind man and it matters not 

 whether my eyes are shut or open. 



A rain continues in the forest for several hours 

 after the storm has ceased outside. The leaves 

 and branches drip steadily in the calm that fol- 

 lows a storm, and the rain pours down in showers 

 when gusts of wind shake the trees. Just as 

 snow is conserved in the forest and slowly melts 

 and enriches the ground, so is the volume of the 

 rain spread over a longer period and does not rush 

 down the hillsides in a career of waste and 

 destruction. In winter, when the fields are here 

 bare of snow, there piled in great drifts, depend- 



