i am afraid i wrote what in north america would be called a poem.... sorry)))
went on a long walk along the river
from a jogging path to the ravine
a raven on a chimney showed me the way
further away from the looming and hovering and watching houses on the hill
past the deer sleeping patch with soft and silky grass
found a little creek trickling from the side of the hill cut down by development
the earth is cracked and white, evened out by the machinery
scattered around shiny pools of water with coffee-bean shaped deer tracks
a sleepy river with golden boulders at the bottom
and then onto the big water
an old antler stuck in the tree, polished by the gentle hands of rains and winds
mine now...
the raspberry chocolate bar found in the bag is a gift of gods!
gives me power to trot along
wrapped in an indian blanket in rusts and greens
its warm and trustworthy friend
an antler tucked behind my shoulder
catches on my hair.
fallen trees and a robin ahead of me on the path
black birds with blood-red stained shoulders
fishermen watch from the other shore
me climbing the fallen trunk.
two dogs towards me
all wagging tails and smiles
the owner: sorry i dont know what the big deal was (to greet me)
oh i know
the spirit and the forest and we are the one
a tuft of thick yellow fur
and a half-bared skull
a porcupine it was.
beyond the fence and barbed wire
no access. and not a living human soul
disturbs my walk
i sit when i want
no wind to wear me down
and birds and gentle lowering sun
this bag is getting too heavy
with sketchbook and diary and pencils
which i never used
the path still winds
and tired feet
continue carrying me towards the highway
the gentle yellows and pinks
on the backs of round stones
in a dry riverbed
lead me to the bridge and the asphalt strips
the cold winds and the sun
felt like they gave me a fever
and the tea tasted so good after
"thank you" says the tiny piece of paper
tangled in the grass.
thank you.
from a jogging path to the ravine
a raven on a chimney showed me the way
further away from the looming and hovering and watching houses on the hill
past the deer sleeping patch with soft and silky grass
found a little creek trickling from the side of the hill cut down by development
the earth is cracked and white, evened out by the machinery
scattered around shiny pools of water with coffee-bean shaped deer tracks
a sleepy river with golden boulders at the bottom
and then onto the big water
an old antler stuck in the tree, polished by the gentle hands of rains and winds
mine now...
the raspberry chocolate bar found in the bag is a gift of gods!
gives me power to trot along
wrapped in an indian blanket in rusts and greens
its warm and trustworthy friend
an antler tucked behind my shoulder
catches on my hair.
fallen trees and a robin ahead of me on the path
black birds with blood-red stained shoulders
fishermen watch from the other shore
me climbing the fallen trunk.
two dogs towards me
all wagging tails and smiles
the owner: sorry i dont know what the big deal was (to greet me)
oh i know
the spirit and the forest and we are the one
a tuft of thick yellow fur
and a half-bared skull
a porcupine it was.
beyond the fence and barbed wire
no access. and not a living human soul
disturbs my walk
i sit when i want
no wind to wear me down
and birds and gentle lowering sun
this bag is getting too heavy
with sketchbook and diary and pencils
which i never used
the path still winds
and tired feet
continue carrying me towards the highway
the gentle yellows and pinks
on the backs of round stones
in a dry riverbed
lead me to the bridge and the asphalt strips
the cold winds and the sun
felt like they gave me a fever
and the tea tasted so good after
"thank you" says the tiny piece of paper
tangled in the grass.
thank you.