I am writing right now simply just to feel my fingers typing. My summer brain had not allowed for much writing, reading hasn’t been a go to activity since the days had gotten long enough to use the evenings for entire days worth of activity after a work day of work. In some sense, summer is my own harvest time. I am harvesting time. All I need is sun, water, and a bit of fertilizer, which I will call “friends”.
Of course, it’s a much different time of year, the shortest days. The longest nights. Time seems to change, and either I change too, or I miss the opportunity. A circle of friends and I sat around on a recent night to sip and write, small chunks of creative time in a warm place. The host of the gathering wrote this poem as her final piece, after having chosen the phrase “an endlessly inspiring forest” from a small, beautiful glass cup of juicy phrases. The room resounded after she read this. This is a true recognition. And maybe each recognition is also an opportunity.
My Favorite Trees
~ poem by Sade Murphy
I remember a proverb
show me your friend and I will show you your character
Given that I’m afraid
My friends speak too highly of me
My friends create an endlessly inspiring forest
They are my favorite trees
I am only the fickle wind
without a thought to what i’ve touched