Thursday, December 18, 2008

Living in the Moment

I went to the arboretum the other day, took pictures, and wrote this poem.

As a child, I would hide away
Within the venerable civilization of trees
There was an invisible line at the edge of our property
Once crossed, all yelling and fighting would cease

I would step into
The flute-like call of a soulful owl
The rise of loquacious locusts
Like steam after a summer rain
And then their sinking hush as I drew near
The creek spilling through pine roots
Weaving around fallen trees
Creating swirling stages of leaves dancing
Ceremoniously, at the end of their day
Like the wind-up music box ballerina
That played Lara’s Theme
The pine needles, bark, and cones that scented my bare feet
Wafting woodland perfume
Infusing a musty certitude

I used to wonder
About never going home
About living on dew berries and Honey Locust nuts
Like the people who lived here before
About pine bark boats
With a leaf for a sail
Where would it end up?

Making birds, nests, and eggs
From the creek bed’s clay
I lived in the moment
Though, it eventually dried and crumbled
And I cried
Now, I keep returning to the forest
Searching for that world
Where I lived in the moment
But my head won’t be silent
Yelling and fighting, though I live alone


Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

WOW! very powerful and evocative!

I used to spend a LOT of time in the woods. This really speaks to me. Love the water spilling through the roots and the flute-like call of the soulful owl!

Mary Stebbins Taitt said...

The pictures are lovely too! I made them big to see better!

bluerose9062 said...

Thanks Mary! That means a lot coming from you, because your poetry helped inspire this poem. This is one of my first attempts at this style of poetry. Is it called prose poetry? I see it is a style you write in a lot. Any suggestions or advice on it would be greatly appreciated. :]

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