No, I wasn’t having a seizure. A flock of goldfinches chased each other from tree to tree, pausing briefly, little bursts of color, zipping here and there. Such beauty! All thought ceased. I became all eye, all ear, all here.
“Believe us, they say, it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” —Mary Oliver Walking along the little creek near McIntosh Lake this morning, the air brisk, sky dense with clouds, head down, brow heavy with rumination—I jerked upright suddenly, startled by golden sparks of lightning flashing across my field of vision.
No, I wasn’t having a seizure. A flock of goldfinches chased each other from tree to tree, pausing briefly, little bursts of color, zipping here and there. Such beauty! All thought ceased. I became all eye, all ear, all here.
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About the Blog
These are the personal reflections of Jay Valusek on the process of Lectio Poetica, on nature, on poetry in general, and on some of words or phrases from poems we have used in our local gatherings. Archives
January 2017
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