#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Tree Bark
“I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
. . . ”
Read the rest of Frost's poem here.
My spontaneous thought, upon waking and looking out the window at the weather: ahhh, a lovely walk in the drenching rain today. This wasn't sarcasm – it seemed like welcome weather, for whatever reason, I wanted to walk in the wet. Spring is slow coming into my woods and rain will add fresh interest, surprise and visual depth to the landscape. I splash down the trail, step over the trestle, dip down the path into the open meadow that's bordered by the river. All the bright red buds on the tall hardwoods are waterlogged, and the slick, soaked willow branches shine a deep red against the gray river. This is the morning of my Wednesday morning writer's group, and I have finished my prep. I have one glorious hour of wandering wetter and wetter. There's a dirt road in the meadow that leads to Hospital Road, and this is where I pass this tree branch, red bark splitting like torn skin from the branch. It stops my breath.
The poem I bring to group, to read and write from, is Ada Limón's, "How to Triumph Like a Girl" ~ after reading it aloud to each other, we have our five minutes of silence (movement or stillness, everyone's choice) to the sound of the audio clip below, and then a free write.
“I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
is as fun as taking a nap, or grass.
I like their lady horse swagger,
after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!. . . ”
