I remember as a girl coming to your entrance and finding
It hostile and inviting with the branches from the pucker brush 
Grabbing at the sides of the vehicle as we hunted
Or as we drove to the door of the cabin way back in the woods
Hidden away between the west branch of the Mattawamkeg
And Babcock brook where the water talks all day and night
Where my father would speak to the beaver
Or the moose that would charge or the birds
Whip-o-will, chickadee, gorbee and we would learn
Them all walking as silently as we could like the 
Animal we were tracking to take impressions
In plaster or to watch from afar or the trip by canoe
To Bible Point to see where dear Roosevelt
Would meditate and now to look and want to cry
A wasteland greets my eyes where the loggers
Have clear cut leaving behind no welcome home
Except for the coyote who wanders lost through the 
Changed land hoping for a glimpse of the animals
Who have lost a home, even me lost in a land that is
Unfamiliar longing for that child like look of forest
Knowing it is gone yet we spread his ashes
On the favorite place, the sacred ground of home