National Poetry Month: A Poem for Spring

"Springtime Near Vetheuil" by Monet

“LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING”

By William Wordsworth

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And ’tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:—

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,

If such be Nature’s holy plan,

Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?

Weekly Poem: Autumn, Part 3

Finding poems for this lovely time of year has proven more difficult than I thought. Plenty of Autumn poems, but so many are melancholy or depressing or explore the season's gloomier aspects. This poem by Pound, however, captured the visual magic that so many of us love about the season. And in so few lines.

Weekly Poem: Autumn, Part 1

Autumn Movement


by Carl Sandburg, 1878 - 1967


I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, 
       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things 
       come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, 
       not one lasts.

A Change of Seasons

A big summer with lots of changes afoot. First, seven years of working on my novel project came to a close. First anchor raised. Second, on Saturday night I closed LegendFire's doors, after 8 years of caring for the community. Second anchor raised.

Tough changes but good ones. There are times I definitely feel adrift in unsteady waters, without a compass or land in sight. Scary, depressing, exhilarating.

Third, I turned 40 this September. Very little that I had hoped for or imagined about my life has turned out. Terrifying.

Right now all possibilities are on the table. So much freedom is overwhelming and a bit daunting. Attempts to write new things have been hit and miss. My brain is fighting for rest, and I try to be gentle and grant it. But I can't just wait for new inspiration to strike. Been playing with a story about my tragic bard. Submitting his first adventure. No luck so far. Almost but not quite a couple of times. It's a novella, though, so no surprise. There just aren't enough markets for fiction that length.

Also trying to become involved in a couple of other writing forums. None will feel like home, I'm afraid unless I'm willing to dive in all the way and get my hands dirty with discussions and crits. ... Betting I need time away from that sort of thing, too. Nothing wrong with a vacay to recharge the desire to help humanity and seek help in return.

In the meantime, lots of prayer, lots of Bible study, lots of meditation and refocusing about life.

So seasons change. The trick is to find joy in the shifting colors.