FollowThis poem is dedicated to the amazing Maine poet and teacher Zanne Langlois. I love to hear her work, and look forward to seeing her keep develop.
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I sense that you are somebody,
that on a 50 degree morning,
as the sun rises wants to spend 3 hours on a quiet mountain.
As the sun moves up the sky, the weather warms,
water coming down off after it’s long hibernation over the bare White Mountains, untreed.
The weather warms.
You take off your flannel shirt,
and revel in bare arms,
white skin that has not seen the sun in 6 months.
The sound of cars faded in the distance,
as you sit with your journal a 1/2 mile from anyone else,
find a cold rock that is still warmed by the sun.
Take off your shoes,
and let them sit in a creek with a pen.
Grab your water bottle,
grab some granola,
sit, read, write, medidate, take your feet out of the water and take a nap in nature.