This June morning
I can still see my breath.
I drive 40 miles to the place
the road curves to accommodate
one slender waterfall:
to count the spots on two fawns;
to witness a hen pheasant
whose chicks accordion behind her
in a cameraless pose.
I don’t tell them
I didn’t come for them.
They know. We all thirst
for the fall combed over the sides
of a stone bowl that cups wildness,
root-brewed and gravel-dripped sweet;
them to drink
and I to braid its thinness
through my fingers
before it shifts back
to simple water.
Simply gorgeous, Susan.
Oh, thank you!
Lovely poem Susan.
Susan, Thanks for this calming interlude in the natural world. I needed it this morning. Alice
Aw, Alice. Glad to share.
This is quite lovely, and how bizarre that we’re both writing about pheasants today 🙂
Isn’t it? The hen and chicks were so cute!
just lovely Suz-
gravel-dripped sweet indeed!
Thanks, John–one of my favorite places, this. Completely wild. I just go on the edges of it. Every year, a few hikers/kayak-ers get hurt (or worse) because the valley is so beautiful and yet dangerous.
Wow! How you describe these things so beautifully – the come alive in your words – water falling finely like soft silky threads through feeling sensitive fingers – just lovely, this description of this pilgrimage to a place of calm and to a place that is vested with more significance than you have let up!
Ah, you have found me out! There is a part 2 to this one that is not written yet 😉
Thanks for reading and liking this!
Gorgeous work Susan!
Thank you, Audrey!
sounds def. worth a 40 miles drive…love the images..love teh chicks accordioning behind her…such a great visual…all great visuals…
Thanks, Claudia. They were so cute–and such a treat to see.
Very nice! I’ve never seen that waterfall, but I’ve driven along the Zoar valley a couple of times. It really is a beautiful landscape there.
Thanks, David. That waterfall is right next to the road, where some thoughtful soul had the road execute a nearly hairpin turn to preserve it. My favorite spot along that drive.
Very nice poem
Thanks, Celestine. One of my favorite places to retreat.
Lovely Susan, I was there with you seeing and feeling that… Wonderful work. With Best Wishes Scott http://www.scotthastie.com
Hi Scott–thanks for the visit, and I am glad you liked this!
to braid its thinness through my fingers…ah i love that…and what you chose to see as well…there is a swan and her littles i keep seeing every morning down by the pond…i will take a little cup of the wildness…any day…smiles.
Oh, me too as far as the wildness goes. Here’s an interesting poetic thought. A group of pheasants is sometimes called a bouquet.
What a beautiful memory, and relayed even more beautifully. Thank you.
Braiding its thin-ness – that is such a rich image. This sounds like a soul-refreshing place to visit; I sure wish it was only 40 miles from me.
Thanks much, Tony. It is gorgeous there. Sigh. I want to live next to it.
the closing 4 lines are exquisite
Thank you, Paul. I think that is where the poem really begins. Part II is coming.
This was a pleasure to read, Susan.
Mary, thank you! Glad you liked.
Loved & then Loved
Aw, thanks, Jen!
Good water is worth the drive. Beautifully written, made my heart sing out!
Purdy in word and picture.
oh the second stanza is outstanding!
Absolutely stunning – K
Thank you, K.
What a moment an early morning to cherish – I see a film rolling behind my eyes here
I wish I’d brought my camera. Wait, I did. The camera was my mind. Glad you saw it too.
Thanks, Audra. A truly beautiful place.
I love the braid slipping thru fingers, and then back into water once again.
Todd, thank you!
pure delight here.