I Go to the Woods in Search of Poetry
I go to the woods in search of poetry
Planting myself firmly,
Soft buttocks undulating to the roll of the earth,
Closing my eyes,
Sitting as still as the heron stalking its prey--
Taking it all in
Like a baby bird
--head uplifted
--beak stretched wide
...waiting...
The Aria begins,
Chirping birds trill their tales.
Violets yearning to be heard stretch sunward
Like young girls sculpted on a sandy shore.
Their fuchsia centers
Erupting across powdery petals,
Miniscule-stripes,
Tiny dots of golden yellow
Like treasure waiting to be found.
Apollo caresses my face and arms.
A whispering breeze nudges my pen
And my paper flaps as if grabbing at words.
Trees shoot up into a never-ending purple-blue sky.
A crescendo explodes
Like 4th of July fireworks,
And the poem ushers forth
Falling down and out and over the earth
Like a shower of life-giving rain.
I go to the woods in search of poetry--
I take my students with me
That they might also search
...and find.
(dedicated to English I students, Spring 2005)
Planting myself firmly,
Soft buttocks undulating to the roll of the earth,
Closing my eyes,
Sitting as still as the heron stalking its prey--
Taking it all in
Like a baby bird
--head uplifted
--beak stretched wide
...waiting...
The Aria begins,
Chirping birds trill their tales.
Violets yearning to be heard stretch sunward
Like young girls sculpted on a sandy shore.
Their fuchsia centers
Erupting across powdery petals,
Miniscule-stripes,
Tiny dots of golden yellow
Like treasure waiting to be found.
Apollo caresses my face and arms.
A whispering breeze nudges my pen
And my paper flaps as if grabbing at words.
Trees shoot up into a never-ending purple-blue sky.
A crescendo explodes
Like 4th of July fireworks,
And the poem ushers forth
Falling down and out and over the earth
Like a shower of life-giving rain.
I go to the woods in search of poetry--
I take my students with me
That they might also search
...and find.
(dedicated to English I students, Spring 2005)
Labels: Kathy Keil, Nature, On Poetry