In all the woods that day I was
the only living thing
fretful, exhausted, or unsure.
Giant fir and spruce and cedar trees
that had stood their ground
three hundred years
stretched in sunlight calmly
unimpressed by whatever
it was that held me
hunched and tense above the stream,
biting my nails, calculating all
my impossibilities.
to reflect or enter into
my considerations.
It found its way
over and around a crowd
of rocks in easy flourishes,
in laughing evasions and
shifts in direction.
Nothing could slow it down for long.
It even made a little song
out of all the things
that got in its way,
a music against the hard edges
of whatever might interrupt its going.
"Passage" by John Brehm, from Help is on the Way. © The University of Wisconsin Press, 2012.
I think that I have made music against the hard edges of this chapter that is now closing. Am looking forward to the shift in direction; even if it includes a wracking of nerves over towing a trailer through the curves of Shasta.
Am at that sorted/packed/good-byes said/cleaning frenzy/stunned that this semester was actually survived/sort of exhaustion--just waiting for the dawn so I may kick off a new month and a new adventure in a new state.
I think that's the nicest way I've heard of to refer to making the best of a hard situation - music against the hard edges.
ReplyDeleteOur time here has had a lot of percussion.
And a lot of rather modern, squeaky bits with the melody. But, it's been music, and we've finally found the tuneful bits again - just in time to leave.
Typical of life, isn't it?
And yet: it's always best to leave on a great, thundering major chord.
Go well, singing.