I shared my sit spot with my good friend Abram today on the steps of my front porch. We didn't see Leo, but we did see my titmouse friend who likes baths and quite a few other bird friends. I don't share my sit spot time often but today it was a gift to me.
Youth
(Youth) This is a young forest. I am older than many of these trees and I too am still quite young. The pines are beginning to fall to make light for the young hardwoods who are ready for the next stretch of forest growth. Soon, they will all be reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks. And with each breeze that passes through a few more will fall to the forest floor.
Underneath
Home Is
A spider web
Glistening
In the light of the sun
Rising in the east.
It is the sit of the wren,
The pecking of the chickens
And the sweetness
Of my lovers kiss
Upon my neck
His breath and smell forcing me
To close my eyes
And savor the moment.
Home is the roar of the highway
As people travel
North
And south
Even on a perfect
Sunday morning.
It is a breath held
And released
Thankful
For the stillness the cool breeze
Brings to the moment.
It is the glistening drop of water
Slowly gathering
Light
And enough weight
To drop
To the earth
In a thundering unexpected
Silent splash.
Home is the chatter of the squirrels
Momentarily upset
By the hawk
Who hunts them
And miraculously appears
Seemingly out of no where
Or the raccoon
Who instinctually year after year
Returns to the faithful persimmon
Savor in their short season.
It is the pine warbler trill,
The hermit thrush song,
The nuthatch call,
And the seasonal
Eastern phoebe song.
Home is here.
Tryon, North Carolina
I have sat on many a creek and though many of the same plants grow on their banks; and though many of the rocks look the same; and though the bird song sounds familiar each creek flows and feels different.
They all have a story only they can tell.
