I can't believe it. October 15th and it's snowing in Kent, CT. We ceremonially lit the outdoor wood stove this afternoon, making sure to use the last charred piece of wood from last season. We're sentimental like that.
With the snow/rain combination falling, I decided to take Dixie for a walk along the river. We both love it there, walking along a lightly worn path the fly fishermen have created. Most of the rain didn't touch us, as the pines are quite dense along the river's edge.
The water is pretty high now, after recent rains, and it reminded me of the first time, months ago, that I found that spot. I was alone, and there was a singular great heron standing on a rock in the center of the rushing water. The tranquility and beauty of the place caused me to rush home and write this poem.
I hope you like it.
Pushing through, my climb nearly done
Thickets, vines, o'er rocks and root
Into or out of - it matters not
The clearing's at hand; the rest but moot.
Its preamble of sound, though clear foretelling
Could nay make for justice plain
Now, before me, crescendo doth play
Her music sings loudly, proud to ordain.
My thoughts rendered speechless, suddenly clear
Sheer force of current, render my awe
Great rocks, smoothened edges, powerless weight
Timeless white foam, the relentless wet saw
Secrets silent, kept, though, in trust
Mere mortals' due hopes, dreams and tears
Yet roll on its march, ne'r pause for a soul
Carry to, or from, all life-long fears.
Take me, bring me, oh force of God
Your depths and unmasking be true
My heart seeks only to play once again
Carry me, please, no gratitude undue.
I'll be adding more posts, for I believe big things are happening...