Taking it in

Smoke from our wood burning stove

Moving to a farm in the country two years ago coincided with a new way of looking at the world. Part of the change was looking to nature for meaning, beauty, truth. Finding joy in simple, touchable, life-giving, cyclical routines.

I read a poem this morning by A.R. Ammons that says something about how I feel:


WHEN I WAS YOUNG THE SILK

When I was young the silk
of my mind
hard as a peony head
unfurled
and wind bloomed the parachute:

The air-head tugged me
up,
tore my roots loose and drove
high, so high

I want to touch down now
and taste the ground
I want to take in
my silk
and ask where I am
before it is too late to know