a forest in his pocket

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“Once there was a man who found a forest in his pocket. When he came home after a day’s work he took it out. His house would fill up with deer and bear, green moss, amber grass. He strolled through green valleys and stands of old oak that poked through his roof into the sky. He cooled his feet in the flowing stream.  He rested in the clear air as he ate his dinner. His neighbors came to hear birdsong and rushing rivers. On occasion people gathered on his lawn drawn by the call of the forest. Even those who came to complain, once inside wanted to stay. He invited them in for a meal, shared stories into the night. And they gazed with wonder at blue mountains, constellations in the sky and began to remember their true names.”