The Poet's Room

Sitting inside, I grow into my chair, Crossing the threshold, Outside, Along my every path, Wild flowers walk!  * September opens first with a cold snap followed by a long needed rain over several days; a steady soaking rain, at times so fine appearing as only mist on my glasses, at other times hard enough to encourage staying  under roof.  On Friday the heavens relent allow sunshine with a freshening breeze. Ground and vegetation remains thoroughly wet still I need a walk. Recalling that last year I’d discovered a local patch of nearby prairie I drive body and soul to nearby Anderson Farm County Park.  Being human is difficult. We have three aspects to our being: 1) body; 2) intellect; 3) spirit or soul. Some say four, but let’s keep it simple for now!  Our challenge to harmonize all three. Meditation can  facilitate that process.  In spiritual practice talking to the higher part of being is considered prayer.  Many terms exist to conceptualize this part. A few examples will suffice:

  This week while walking in my neighborhood I spotted a yard sign depicting a young black woman with an afro, with the message Black Lives Matter. Nearby stood a Little Free Library, a project done by a local girl scout troop. A page in the window explains these girl scouts created the Library “in response to our Nation’s issues with racism.” “This little Free Library is dedicated to providing you with books from diverse voices.” Thank You Neighbors!      I am Caucasian, of the white race, a definition  based on skin color. An obvious distinction only in comparison to other skin colors. Skin color associated with race, ranges from black to brown, to white to red with many subtle variations. In the United States before the European immigration the red skin peoples now referred to as Native American dominated the landscape. People have immigrated from all over the world to live and raise families here since that time.  Some came voluntarily, for opportunity and a better life. Many came

P erception stimulated the poem Wonderment last week while driving through southwestern Wisconsin. Fondly known as the Driftless Area, land missed by the last glacier, a rolling countryside of coulees with an abundance of spring fed trout streams. The drive led me toward …. here let the poem explain!  Wonderment! This body drives, Through Richland Center, Turns onto Highway 56 Towards Viroqua, The continual questing, Seen through  Windshield As black paved road Winds over Around hills, Past fields of corn Grown green, Forest covered steeps, Gravity carved valleys, Conducts Sparkling waters Toward Oceanic dreams; This beginners mind, Rides to crest another rise, Transcends the known, Rolls down silence Into profound being, Where wonder Resides At home. T he visual stimulated perception, aroused informed emotion to produce the word “Wonderment.” With that word plus associated feeling I wrote the first draft of the poem. How well does the poem convey my experience to the reader? Not be