What to say?
I used to think my writing would foster and help preserve meaningful life events. I further expected that these recorded experiences and discoveries would later prove helpful to people in some way. But what generally happens is this: During key times of intense exploration and insight, the writing evaporates almost entirely.
Winter, evening—same thing, that late phase of life. It’s a good time and I’m in it. I walk outdoors often, listening outward and inward. Sometimes a poem comes.
LIFE, LIBERTY, HAPPINESS
I’d stopped by the evening tree
(or else was stopped below it)
when there arose in me
this deep-felt certainty:
It’s one thing to be free,
but a better thing to know it.
Hickory Creek is a quiet place. Our doings don’t get much notice, except for an occasional drowning or meth lab bust. So I doubt this week’s rail car rescue made the news, except among neighbors and the contractors involved.
It’s three weeks into official winter and we’ve experienced highly fluctuating weather here in Arkansas. An early snow-and-ice storm blew through in early December. Another arrived in early January, dropping the overnight temperature to -12 degrees. Directly after that, a warm rain washed away the icy remnants and sunned the landscape with afternoon temperatures approaching the 60’s. Today’s wind—thankfully from the south—continues the recent refreshing blow-dry.
I was invited to answer that question recently. After a decade of writing poems, I could honestly answer, “Any which-way.” Today’s “Trading Partners” is a good example. It derived from the crow tracks pictured above. Other influences can be tracked as well…
These are some of my favorite poems this month. (They are still drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.)
During the Christmas trivia program at last week’s Lions Club meeting, I kept missing questions because I knew so little about the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.” However, I certainly relate to the title and theme.
Today is my birthday. As I reflect on my wonderful sixty-five years of life so far, I feel well satisfied.
These are some of my favorite poems this month. (They are still drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.)
* * *
It was this kind of a day…
Except for mesh-top athletic shoes, I’d bundled up warm under a green umbrella. The cold front’s wind had passed earlier, but drizzle and low temperatures remained.
Too late! I already took my photo.
This sign exemplifies the many “Don’t Do” warnings I encounter on my daily walks. Together, they signify that this residential area contains many undeveloped, languishing, or otherwise private properties. By “private” I mean they support a person’s being comfortably alone. Even the locale’s public areas—such as the nearby boat ramp and state park—are often unoccupied or almost so… especially in winter.