if I follow these tracks,
not into thickets, but past roots
falling like long hair
down the banks, I will find them.
I hunt without arrows
or guns, only the net of my eyes
strung across the path
you said in the morning
the personal gods come to drink
from streams like these
& perhaps that is why
these ears catch words easily
near water, stray conversation
overheard between the bringers of visions.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
We’re just back from a walk on the Malvern Hills in Worcestershire UK ~ this couldn’t be more appropriate ~ nice poem
Oh, thank you, Polly. Did you overhear some conversation?
An innovative concept !!!
Thank you–actually, it is an old, old one, but new to this north american.
I really like
falling like long hair
down the banks
I find the imagery pleasing
Thanks, Ian.
The gods of small places are content
Rarely bothering with scurrying passers by
Unless someone stops to listen and observe
Pure souls may feel a whisper
An intimation of a prayer
As a freshening breeze
Tousles your hair
Like a caress
Beautiful, David. My original draft had small gods instead of personal gods 😉
you have such an exquisite way with words. this blog is a happy find
Stacy, thank you so very much.
That line: that is why these ears catch easily words” reminds me that it is interesting that God can’t be seen but His voice is always heard everywhere there are ears to catch His words.
Hunting is indeed the right word, thanks Susan for this!
my pleasure, Joe!
isn’t it great when that happens:))
Yes, it sure is!
Beautiful poetry! The gods are smiling!
Thanks, Noel! I always try to please those unpredictable vision-bringers 😉
what a beautiful understanding of quiet beauty!
Thanks!
It brings back memories of a place special to my children, where trees sport their etched initials and water flows so cool it numbs skin.
Now that sounds like someplace beautiful, Nelle!
I always marvel at your beautiul way with words, Susan. You are so prolific!
Celestine–thanking you!