Driving Down the Highway

Driving down the highway, we pass hills and trees. I keep my eyes open for cows; and then I see Coots, those black bundles that get a running start on the water before they take off; and I see one lone bird perched high in the branches, small and hidden away, but seeing everything.

And on this past Saturday, the clouds formed a parachute, wrapping the sky in a weave pattern that made me want to climb on up and see the land from up above.

Highway turned to narrow country roads and the image that has stayed with me is of one white Heron standing in the grassland with a fence between him and another white Heron on the other side of the fence. They were looking at each other from at least 15 feet apart–looking as though they had found themselves in a mirror, looking carefully and cautiously into each other's eyes from that distance. It was a sight that like a pebble thrown into a still lake has rippled throughout my being.

I walk the mountain with my mind

I walk the mountain with my mind,
observe the daily changes.
He looks hot today:
Sun beating down on his
peaks and valleys, green face,
turned dusty.
Each day
I see you dear Mountain;
I bow down to your beauty,
your strength, and massiveness.
You remind me how small I am
in comparison to you, yet you
love me just the same. I watch you
change color when there is an opportunity
to steal a glance. I watch you change hues
to match the time of day. And when you are
paired with the moon, a few wispy clouds,
I climb on the ladder that hangs low; I climb to reach you both.
You hold out your hand, while the moon shines the light I need to navigate the darkness.
I disappear into the night.

December Night

December Night

Happy puppy licking the back window. The sun that rose in the bedroom window this morning, I see up over the hill as I drive in the opposite direction, it now sets--a large burnt tangerine globe going down the mountain. I pass the tree lot. Lights around the perimeter glow softly. Families scurrying to find the perfect tree. What happens to those trees that remain I always wonder. Back into the earth they came from--mulch, I suppose. The cold in the air clips my nose. The stark trees silhouetted, stark naked, sharing the space with other trees that still hold their autumn foliage close to their breast. It is the season of holiday lights and people running around in good cheer and the crows harking in the background. And to all a good night.

**

I originally wrote this on December 8. I was driving to the store the long way and the calm affect of the drive opened me to the night. The puppies are what got me and the everything was filled with emotion after that. I wanted to pull over but there wasn't anywhere and I was nearing my destination. I pulled into the parking lot and pulled out my iPod Touch and began tapping out my musings. I kept them the way they flowed out--without edits.

This is an unrelated photo of nighttime-- unrelated in the sense that it was a different day. 

Happy Day & Writing and Creating!

Leaning trees

Leaning trees

berries hanging

                         Pulling

Bear thy fruits

Unload yourselves

young tender shoots

Amongst mature wise bark,

lean on each other, bear

thy weight together.

**

Endnote:

I enjoy being the passenger in a car. The freeway especially allows me to enter into the moment. This small poem came to me on October 15, 2011. I was watching the road and noticing and absorbing what I saw. I wasn’t thinking. Words started forming, so I unzipped my bag and pulled out the little blue notebook the size of a credit card. It’s a Moleskin—my favorite. I also have a larger sized one in there, but the moment decides which one I will select.