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the_vultureBlend
Sometimes, I push too hard.
Sometimes, Life pushes back.
Sometimes, that catches me off guard.
The Summer Solstice snuck up on me,
amidst the bustle of work and other busy stuff.
This year, none of the usual
formal acknowledgement of the cycle of nature
by greeting the Sun with song a dawn, no.
Instead, it's a plan quickly laid
on the way to my car after work.
My Solstice Feast? A three piece chicken dinner
with wedges, purchased at the grocery deli.
My celebration? No more than a walk by the marsh,
to reflect a little on the rhythmic dance of nature,
and perhaps gather ideas for a poem,
whilst hoping the grey skies don't empty on me.
In the parking lot leading to the marsh trail,
I can hear the rumble of cars down the road,
reminding me that I haven't really gone very far
to find a wild space to be in.
Ah well, there's no help for it.
It won't get any better than this.
I begin down the path to the trail and,
as the vehicular grumbles slowly die to a murmur,
I am greeted with the view of the marsh,
opening wide before me, a vast sea
of rushes and grasses dancing in the breeze.
One might think it odd to see
the tattered fluffs of last season's cattails
standing like grey, weather beaten sentinels,
amongst the fresh green of this year's growth,
but, oddly, I only think of this much, much later.
The challenge of road noise is met,
by the murmuring of the wind
through the marsh plants and trees,
whilst all is accompanied by bird song
and the steady crunch of my footfalls,
the heart beat for my journey.
The Sun plays hide-and-seek
throughout the cloudy skies.
Its warmth holds me in a humid embrace,
gentle, soothing and deep,
whilst the waving marsh plants flash
a primeval Morse code understood
only deep in the core of one's being.
I can't quite see the river, not even its banks;
it's all hidden by the marsh growth.
I can see its mark upon the land, though,
as the sea of grass weaves with it,
nourished by the marsh waters.
Do their roots know the same joy I do,
as gentle, drizzling droplets refresh my face?
Whilst so much life rises from the fleshy mud,
my feet find their way along the gravel path
steady and firm, like the groves of trees,
that stand as a wall between the marsh
and the concrete world of city living people,
their citadels seen only in the distance.
In this place that's not wholly wild,
yet far from fully human,
worlds merge and edges soften,
whilst sky and sun and water and earth
dance to an eternal rhythm,
extending a hand to my soul.
I return to my car, nourished and refreshed,
in more ways than physical,
with a poem half-written in my head,
and a heart full of magic.
Sometimes, I push too hard.
Sometimes, Life pushes back.
Sometimes, I remember to blend with it.
It doesn't get any better than this.
~The Vulture~
Sometimes, I push too hard.
Sometimes, Life pushes back.
Sometimes, that catches me off guard.
The Summer Solstice snuck up on me,
amidst the bustle of work and other busy stuff.
This year, none of the usual
formal acknowledgement of the cycle of nature
by greeting the Sun with song a dawn, no.
Instead, it's a plan quickly laid
on the way to my car after work.
My Solstice Feast? A three piece chicken dinner
with wedges, purchased at the grocery deli.
My celebration? No more than a walk by the marsh,
to reflect a little on the rhythmic dance of nature,
and perhaps gather ideas for a poem,
whilst hoping the grey skies don't empty on me.
In the parking lot leading to the marsh trail,
I can hear the rumble of cars down the road,
reminding me that I haven't really gone very far
to find a wild space to be in.
Ah well, there's no help for it.
It won't get any better than this.
I begin down the path to the trail and,
as the vehicular grumbles slowly die to a murmur,
I am greeted with the view of the marsh,
opening wide before me, a vast sea
of rushes and grasses dancing in the breeze.
One might think it odd to see
the tattered fluffs of last season's cattails
standing like grey, weather beaten sentinels,
amongst the fresh green of this year's growth,
but, oddly, I only think of this much, much later.
The challenge of road noise is met,
by the murmuring of the wind
through the marsh plants and trees,
whilst all is accompanied by bird song
and the steady crunch of my footfalls,
the heart beat for my journey.
The Sun plays hide-and-seek
throughout the cloudy skies.
Its warmth holds me in a humid embrace,
gentle, soothing and deep,
whilst the waving marsh plants flash
a primeval Morse code understood
only deep in the core of one's being.
I can't quite see the river, not even its banks;
it's all hidden by the marsh growth.
I can see its mark upon the land, though,
as the sea of grass weaves with it,
nourished by the marsh waters.
Do their roots know the same joy I do,
as gentle, drizzling droplets refresh my face?
Whilst so much life rises from the fleshy mud,
my feet find their way along the gravel path
steady and firm, like the groves of trees,
that stand as a wall between the marsh
and the concrete world of city living people,
their citadels seen only in the distance.
In this place that's not wholly wild,
yet far from fully human,
worlds merge and edges soften,
whilst sky and sun and water and earth
dance to an eternal rhythm,
extending a hand to my soul.
I return to my car, nourished and refreshed,
in more ways than physical,
with a poem half-written in my head,
and a heart full of magic.
Sometimes, I push too hard.
Sometimes, Life pushes back.
Sometimes, I remember to blend with it.
It doesn't get any better than this.
~The Vulture~
