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There is no more selfish act, no more powerful gift I give to myself, then when I find a quiet corner to read a book of poetry.  Through the author’s words — and the images evoked by those words — my experiences of this life are deepened.  I especially felt that way today as I found a moment to read W. S. Merwin’s The Shadow of Sirius.  You see, for days now, each morning as night gives way to morning, I have lain awake in bed listening to birdsong.  I have struggled with how to capture the experience on paper.  And then I read Merwin’s poem The Laughing Thrush, and I thought, “Well, one day the words may come about my bird and his song.  But for now let me enjoy another’s.”

 

The Laughing Thrush

by W. S. Merwin

 

O nameless joy of the morning

tumbling upward note by note out of the night

and the hush of the dark valley

and out of whatever has not been there

song unquestioning and unbounded

yes this is the place and the one time

in the whole of before and after

with all of memory waking into it

and the lost visages that hover

around the edge of sleep

constant and clear

and the words that lately have fallen silent

to surface along the phrases of some future

if there is a future

here is where they all sing the first daylight

whether or not there is anyone listening

 

* from The Shadow of Sirius

 

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Through the following poem and her images, guest contributor Molly J. Anderson-Childers, illuminates the magic and beauty of one of this country’s most significant and mysterious archaeological sites, Chaco Canyon.  Enjoy!

Chaco Canyon Love Song

The ancient stones speak to me,

Calling me home

This sacred place, so alive in its silence

Red rock and bluebird skies

Blooming sage on the West wind

Indian paintbrush, sunset-hued,

Fills the desert air with sweet intoxication

Desire blooms there too.

My lover undresses inside a fortress of aged sandstone

So warm in the sun

We make love to the old rhythms, with wild abandon

Clouds wash over the sky, waves in a distant sea

We are cleansed, made holy by rain

O my love, fly with me as the raven flies

Circling on night’s wings

Crumbling walls, still strong

Only worn by time, they curve and bow outwards crazily

Walk a thin cobbled path to the kivas

Feel the perfect curve of the underground walls with your eye

Look down into the past

Hear the blood-drums pounding, the voices raised in song

An ancient celebration of life

The full moon, first fruits of harvest

Share their joy and wonder

Envy these ancient ones their mysteries , unexplained by cold science

They worship the Cloud-Goddess, praying for rain

The deer their sister; the jack-rabbit their brother

The raven, a wise and trusted friend.

The deer, gentle, wide-eyed, steps lightly upon the fragile soil

She can run all day for the joy of wind in her face.

The raven, queen of the desert, surveys her domain from on high.

The jack-rabbit nestles into his warm hole with seven brothers

They snuggle underground, far from harm

Sleeping soundly in the earth‘s embrace, dreaming rabbit dreams

All in this holy place.

***

Dedication:

This poem is dedicated to my husband Charles, the man who first introduced me to the wonders of Chaco Canyon and the ancient ruins there.

***

Molly Anderson-Childers is a writer, artist, and creativity consultant.  Her work has appeared in print publications, both locally and nationally, including Images, Edible San Juan Mountains, The Durango Telegraph, newWitch, and Southwest Colorado Arts Perspective.  This poem was originally published in the anthology, Eternal Portraits, in 2006, with the work of other poets from all over the nation.  You can find her work published on numerous sites online- www.creativity-portal.com , www.thepaganarts.com , www.ediblesanjuanmountains.com, and www.hank-englisheducation.blogspot.com, to name a few.  She also publishes two blogs, www.stealingplums/blogspot.com and www.addictivefiction.blogspot.com .  She is currently working on her first novel, Stealing Plums.

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When I first spied these illuminated leaves in the Middlesex Fells, I was stopped in my tracks.  At first, I thought the leaves were monarch butterflies — they so resembled the pictures I’d seen of monarchs dripping orangely from the trees along their migration routes. There were many such sights in the Fells this past Sunday.  Such a journey, with the sunlight so golden and falling at that end-of-summer low angle … it was a definite highlight of the month. Following are a few other highlights of the month, as well as a some plans and prospects for September.

For those of you new to my blog, these more or less monthly updates are my attempt to regularly share with friends, family and colleagues my creative activities. These updates also help me put a public stake in the ground about what I am planning to do in the near future … so that (ahem) my friends, family and colleagues can help hold me accountable and keep me honest! Even if you regularly visit my blog, I think you might find a few new items of interest … especially if you like chocolate. 😉

Where Inspiration Found Me

Inspiration appeared in unexpected places in August. For both words and images, Steve’s Kitchen, was a source of inspiration. The images are below. As for the words, you can read the recent short that appears here in Orion Magazine’s online Places Where You Live. FYI, the picture you see in the online story will be appearing in the magazine’s November/December print issue.

And maybe being in Steve’s kitchen set the tone for the month, because food in general inspired me. I sent off poems about food. I’ve been reading books about food. Heck, I may even watch Babette’s Feast tonight. I do know that in August I spent a lot of time photographing food … first at the farmer’s market, and then … in Steve’s kitchen.

Additional images can be found here.

Though it is darn toasty now where I live, earlier this month there were heavy, steady rains and the air was so chill, people had pulled out sweaters and scarves. On my way into work one day I was captured by the pools that had formed on the sidewalks. And floating in the pools were fallen leaves.

More images like these can be found here.

Leaves in general have been inspiring me.

A leaf at the Middlesex Fells. You can view more Fells images here.

Okay, that’s a snapshot of the past month. What’s on tap for September?

* continuing to send off submissions for both the writing and the photography

* investigating what it would take to publish a book of my photos

* following up on some really cool story leads that people have been sending my way

* keeping better track of the arts events taking place in my area, especially those coming up for the holidays

* assessing and investing in the tools of my trade, from pen and paper to camera equipment

I think that’s it for now.  Here’s hoping we all have a good September! 😉


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When I first picked up my local newspaper, the Somerville News, one of the first things I noticed was Doug Holder’s Lyrical Somerville poetry column.  I don’t think you see poetry columns in print newspapers very often anymore.   I’ve enjoyed reading his selections over the years.  And, so it was an honor to have him select one of my poems to appear in last week’s issue.  If you’re interested in reading my poem, The Absence of Color, you can find it here:  http://www.thesomervillenews.com/archives/6286

To stay on top of the local poetry scene, follow Doug’s blog here:  Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene.

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Ah! Sunflower

Ah, Sunflower! weary of time,

Who countest the steps of the Sun,

Seeking after that sweet golden clime

Where the traveller’s journey is done:

Where the Youth pined away with desire,

And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow

Arise from their graves, and aspire

Where my Sunflower wishes to go.

Words by William Blake

Image by Lorraine

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I received an e-update today from poets.org that included news about W. S. Merwin, one of my favorite poets. He is succeeding Kay Ryan as the 2010-2011 U.S. Poet Laureate.  His is a poetry that makes one pause.  Maybe all poetry does that. 😉  In any case, in the bookstore where I work, in the quiet moments, I pull Merwin’s Shadow of Sirius from the shelf.  I recently discovered that he’d written a famous poem about mushrooms. As someone who has habitually avoided mushrooms I am amazed at how often mushrooms are appearing in my life this summer!

Looking for Mushrooms at Sunrise

When it is not yet day
I am walking on centuries of dead chestnut leaves
In a place without grief
Though the oriole
Out of another life warns me
That I am awake

In the dark while the rain fell
The gold chanterelles pushed through a sleep that was not mine
Waking me
So that I came up the mountain to find them

Where they appear it seems I have been before
I recognize their haunts as though remembering
Another life

Where else am I walking even now
Looking for me

— W. S. Merwin

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Dead Mule School of Southern Literature has posted a poem that I wrote about southern storms.  Thanks to the folks at Dead Mule.  You can check out my poem at the link below, and please do read some of the other wonderful poems, essays and stories you’ll find on the website.

Summer Storms –  Poem

And to learn more about how a southern upbringing influences this creative life, read the recent interview with Molly Anderson-Childers for Creativity Portal.com.

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Serenity

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

from Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer

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” the submerged shafts of the sun, split like spun glass,

move themselves with spotlight swiftness into the crevices

— in and out, illuminating the turquoise sea ”

 

Read the full poem, The Fish, and about the fascinating author, Marianne Moore,  here:

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21070

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Pink Blossoms

“… everything flowers

though sometimes it is necessary

to reteach a thing its loveliness,

to put a hand on its brow

of the flower

and retell it in words and in touch

it is lovely …”

— excerpt from Galway Kinnel’s Saint Francis and the Sow

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