Excerts From My Notebook
What do you do with the writing that has no place?
Just about every venture into nature, packed away in my bag or truck is my notebook. Its leather bound, and has tasted the salt air, felt the arid desert sun, and even taken the train through the English countryside. It is packed with observations, notes, and even the feelings that different landscaped illicit. And yet, for every bit of writing that makes sense (or has its place) there are many that seem to just float about. Like a piece of flotsam that washed ashore.
I figured, why not share them here? Why not give them a home?
I was flipping through the pages the other day, and came across one of those pieces that didn’t quite seem to fit in any of the writing I am currently working on, or would work on in the future.
Why? Because it is a poem.
Never thought of myself of a poet, even though I do have some appreciation for poetry. The inspiration for this was on one of those trips where I sat near a creak, surrounded by the jagged peaks of the rockies. The sweet air and serenity compelled me to write it. I never thought I would ever share it, because I never had a reason (or a space) to do so. But now that I’m here, I figured why not?
The Warm Valley (a poem)
Watch the branches bend
bowing to greet the wind
as they succumb to its strength,
only to return to their posture
as it relents.
Neither give much attention to the river
its steady flow a chorus,
to any and all who will listen.
The stones amongst it all sit
either basking in the sunlight,
or caressed by the river’s water
remain in their endless meditation.
All protected in the valley,
residing under the watchful eye
of the mountain’s peak.
Eevery now and then, I’ll flip back through the pages and find a piece to share. Pulling out those seemingly “one off” bits of writing I never expected or intended to have someone else read. This will give them a home outside of my notebook, and hope they reach some eyes.
Enjoy.