Tuesday, October 23, 2007

poetry tuesday

Yesterday's post was heavy, for me anyway. I'm glad I wrote it...but today I need something with hope.

So I picked up my poetry notebook. It's not everything I've ever written, but it's a lot of it. In college I studied writing and ended up focusing on poetry even though in high school I was terrified if I even had to read poetry. Go figure.

I don't write as much poetry as I used to. I could post my nearly endless list of excuses, but it's best just to say I haven't made it a priority. But I miss it, so I'm turning Tuesday into Poetry Day. And if I don't write something new I'll post something old, like today.


The sun smiles at me
from across the lake, breathes
warm air over the glassy
water to kiss my forehead. I sit
on the shoulder
of the mountain, remember
my canoe paddle slicing
through the liquid blue, painting
whirlpools on the canvas of yesterday.

I want to be a tree, to reach
with my toes, deep
into the ground, to feel the brown
of the earth around my ankles. I want to touch
the damp feathers
of the clouds, to snare the moon
with the leaves sprouting
from my fingertips. My body, thick
and stronger than any
angry wind, always stands.

When the sun yawns and sinks
into its silky waterbed
and the night wraps me with a cool
blanket, I watch as God the Artist
speckles the sky with stars.
Soon I stand and begin to climb
down, toward the place
others call home, but my footprints
will never leave the mountain.

march 30, 2000


  1. hmmm... this makes me picture a tree on a hill at a certain camp we both know and love...

  2. PM: you might think so...but I wrote the poem in March 2000. My first time at that particular camp was May 2000. :)

    (it was actually inspired by a trip to upstate New York)

  3. This is one of those poems in which the feelings that inspired it seem to push their way through the words, to confront the reader directly, without any intermediary. Very powerful.