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Harmony
The old oak's limb offered escape,
a perch not too high to foster insecurity
but protection for solitary idleness
during sweltering summer afternoons.
Yet how long does youth crave inaction?
Intoxication's more like it, of speed, of air,
of freedom. Muscles gripping, balancing,
leaning low, soaring, embracing excitement
and a strong back, straddled,
pretending I was an Indian, confined braids flying
in unison with tresses dark and willing,
Still, it's not all about urgency, about daring.
Forty-five years later, beneath billowing clouds,
Forty-five years later, beneath billowing clouds,
rhythmically swaying as if a baby in a cradle,
I surrender pathway to scrutiny of another
become soothed and settled,
I surrender pathway to scrutiny of another
become soothed and settled,
still harmonizing with a spirit never truly tame;
submission their offering, care and gentleness, mine.
by Margaret Bednar, December 17, 2018
Note: This went through a re-write on the 19th.
The challenge here for my monthly poetry group here in my hometown is to write about something (I think they wanted a texture but I obviously chose something else) without naming it, but trying one's best to describe it. Obviously, the photo (I did not take it) gives the answer away, but I will not print this photo when presenting it to the group.
I am linking this with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform".
9 comments:
I read this as seeking (and finding) peace in a storm. Love the tone of your write. There's nothing more liberating than riding through the wind.
"Today I look up at billowing clouds,/rhythmically sway as if a baby in a cradle": Such a wonderful line. I really like the dichotomy of character traits and their relevance in this verse. The liberation is thus sought and achieved, and so is gratefulness. :-)
Oh the memory of that strong back and "harmonizing with a spirit never truly tame." I love it!
You have truly captured the feel and freedom of the ride Margaret. Love it!
I love this surrendering to nature, Margaret, and the Intoxication of wind, air and freedom, not like a cowboy but an Indian - must be bareback.
Oh, goodness. I am swooning over this section:
"smile, remember a strong back, straddled
pretending I was an Indian, confined braids
flying in unison with tresses dark and willing"
Love how you described the ride here, loved the imagery.
Loved the feel and the last two lines of this.
Forty-five years later, beneath billowing clouds,
rhythmically swaying as if a baby in a cradle,
I surrender pathway to scrutiny of another
become soothed and settled,
It seems motherhood has a soothing effect to make mothers more forgiving and perhaps being more practical in approach!
Hank
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