When I got back to my abode in the woods, I looked up a favorite poem selection by Rainer Maria Rilke. His poem is titled The Solitary Person. It underscored my morning feelings as I observed the quiet landscape. Here it is for you.
Among so many people cozy in their homes,
I am like a man who explores far-off oceans.
Days with full stomachs stand on their tables;
I see a distant land full of images.
I sense another world close to me,
perhaps no more lived in than the moon;
they, however, never let a feeling alone,
and all the words they use are so worn.
The living things I brought back with me
hardly peep out, compared with all they own.
In their native country they were wild;
here they hold their breath from shame.