Monday, February 10, 2014

It will be summer, always

    Gold Mint Trail, Hatcher Pass

                       
                         Today is not a day I dreamed...it will be summer, always

                          not a day I longed for tall grasses to pant and froth
                          like winded ocean waves

                          Light clears the ridge for the first time
                          in two months and

                          a vicious storm brews behind my eyes
                          (place your hand on my heart, feel the trembling)

                          something bottomless is stuck, sinking slowly but
                          never reaching the ocean floor. 

                          Up here the air is thin, the sky cerulean blue
                          not your ordinary magic (ha)

                          a pale day-moon gathers, refusing to be extinguished

                          unwarmed by a brief slant of sun
                          the wind is cold

                          so cold it burns my cheeks.

                          No more talking:  listen
                          No more pushing:  yield

                          until the mud settles

                          until the water is clear.


                                          

Note: This poem made its arrival after hiking the Gold Mint Trail at Hatcher Pass yesterday with friends. The trail was hard packed, the wind severely blowing and cold...but we were exhilarated. Sometimes just getting out and walking in the natural world banishes all that ails us.


                         



12 comments:

  1. Hiking, in that weather, had to be exhilarating! And what beautiful, beautiful feasts for the eyes.

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  2. I have been longing to be out in the cold for a long hike or snowshoe. Wish we could go together. Thank you for taking me there. I may use this poem of yours in my writing workshop tomorrow evening. xooxo xS

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    1. Oh, please do use my poem...I look forward to our hike in the beautiful Upper Michigan woods, come August!

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  3. How lucky you are to hike in these places! Unperturbed by winter!

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    1. haha! Like you, I own good boots! Loved your Lake Michigan photos.

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  4. This poem is pure Presence, Monica.

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    1. Floating in and out of Presence seems to be the order of my days.
      Thank you, Kathy.

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  5. My favorite line is that about the pale day-moon, refusing to be extinguished. And that about yielding, until the mud settles.

    We're in the time of year when we get an inversion or two in our water. It warms on top, and literally "turns over". The mud and sludge from the bottom comes up, and the turning makes it as ugly as can be. It takes some time for it to settle out, and there's nothing to do but wait - for the birds and fish as much as the humans. But it's a sign of spring, however inelegant.

    This is a wonderful poem. I've read it several times, just pondering. What a gift you have.

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    1. Oh dear, thank you, Linda. I don't think I've ever enjoyed winter so much. Probably because I'm hitting the trails a couple times a week, which surely helps when you live in a world of mostly gray days. This one was a beauty, though. The colder, the better, especially when the sky is blue.

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    2. Try this, Monica - I replied using my Google account and that sent you over to an old and never used blog.

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  6. From 'Winter's Heartbeat' to 'It will be summer, always . . . ' -- there's an exquisite stream of light that flows from post to post. Surreal, real, cerulean . . . a pale moon in daytime -- it's the way you fuse the undercurrents of what we hear with what we see that brings a deeper resonance.

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  7. I've always wanted to write a children's book with this title...maybe someday. I am so grateful for your insight, Deborah. You bring forth compelling thoughts: fusing undercurrents...that bring deeper resonance. Thank you.

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