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Writing
Morning Sun
Alone, I am tranquil
Beneath oak trees illuminated
With morning light
Deer step carefully across my path
Seeking tender blades of grass
Brought up by the storms
Birds chirp from high branches
Out of sight, out of reach
Free to sing their own song
Here I rest on this wooden bench
Unfettered for a short time
Free to write my own story
The fog
The fog. The wet trees dripping water down the backs of our shirts as we walk.
The library. Print this. ..then this… read by next week.
The preschool. The bustling, loud, sweet children. The director. My schedule. Encouragement.
My child!
The grocery store.
The Christmas lights at the houses of the rich.
Pie.
Dry leaves rustling
Listening for Fall
On my back gazing upward
Dry leaves rustling
Henry Cowell Forest in Felton
I went to Henry Cowell by myself this morning after dropping Phoebe off at kindergarten. I got there at about 8:45am while the sky was still cloudy and mist shrouded the trees. After passing a pair of women walking out of the forest, I had the place seemingly to myself. I followed the interpretive trail walking slowly and drinking in my surroundings, trying to feel at ease. When I came to the Fremont tree where an early pioneer was said to spend the night on his journey through the area, I ducked inside, right into the darkness, opting not to use my phone as a flashlight. It took several minutes for my eyes to adjust and see the patterns of the wood and the little enclaves people had carved out.
It felt like the most magical place in the world to be in the center this massive tree which extended so far above and so deep below, sitting in the quiet darkness. The birds had been loud in the forest but all of that was inaudible from within the tree. All I could hear was the occasional bellowing of the train horn. I knelt on the ground for a while with one knee touching the scratchy ground before sitting down on the seat of my sundress with my thighs against the dirt.
I sat there as long as I could manage and when I emerged, the deep green of the branches above looked as vibrant as ever. I sat on a bench in the clearing and read in my book for a while, then continued my walk. It was getting sunny then (around 10) and there were small groups of people around every turn. I stumbled upon a doe with two fawns who seemed indifferent to my presence just 20 feet away behind a very low barrier fence. The fawns were adorable and I stood still and watched the family until they walked behind a thick redwood. There were another two does nearby. Both paused when they saw me but relaxed when it was clear that I would continue my walk.
Twilight
Brilliant twilight sky
Outlining the pure, dark form
Of oak trees above
Tranquil
Clouds blanket the earth
Against your chest, I lie still
Breathing in and out
A child lives here
The smell of play dough
In the carpet while I do
My yoga session
Summer
Wind through the oak trees
Soft notes rise into the air
From a lone guitar
Last night I dreamed of writing a novella and sending it to a publisher. Now if only I could remember what it was about!