Most readers of this blog realize that I do some poetic musings from time to time. And, I like to find imagery to match the words--but sometimes, it is just easier to let the words create their own images. A couple years ago, I wrote a piece called "
Arriving at night" that was based on my experiences of driving into a new landscape at dark and watching the view unfold at daybreak. This morning, as I drove through thick fog into the Nebraska Sandhills, I found some imagery to go with that piece. Read along below (you can find this piece, along with others, in my recent book,
Cursed with Wings: and other frustrations):
Arriving at night
We came to this place
down a road that seemed like
most other roads
in the narrow glare of our high-beams.
We set up camp
with the help of shadows that seemed familiar.
The fire's glow created
a room for two
in this open field,
and there were no surprises as
we drifted to sleep.
But as we awoke,
the dawn made us aware
this place was like no other we had seen before.
The new view from our camp
broadened as the fog rose
and finally we were standing
as captains of a ship
that has risen from the depths
of an ocean of grass and hills.
And we ask,
How could we have missed this
in the dark?
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