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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
Rushing past
without a thought to what i’ve touched
Dear Kathryn,
I posted this to my FaceBook page–what a humble way to look at the proverb! And I’d say that ‘wind’ has an important part to play in keeping the forest healthy…even if it seems to be uncaring or unconscious?
Love this–thank you!
Thanks, Beth! A good thought about wind! I also liked Sade’s inference of rooted friends, even as one finds oneself feeling like the wind, in and amongst.