I want to write you a song
A song of our love
Full of moonlit nights
And wine by the lake
And love under the trees.
A song that gets into your mind
And under your skin.
That transports you to another time
Another place
To us.
And when you hear it
You can’t get it out of your mind.
And you catch your breath
And your heart skips a beat
And you smile.
And it has all the right notes
And all the right words
Perfection.
Like our love.
I want to write you a song.
And sing it with you forever.
We travel o’er a rainbow road
With trees of amber, orange too
A multicolored page through time
A treasure map of changing hue
We follow not, the mapped page here
But choose to let the trail run free
Kaleidoscope trees become our guides
Painted masterpiece for my love and me
Suntanned roads, cut-sapphire ponds
Trees clothed in fluttering butterflies
Proud evergreen boughs to frame the shot
Oak leaf fireworks fill the skies
Robin’s egg vault a backdrop for
The flowing wind-blown cotton puff clouds
Maine’s Autumn paint by number days
My “Songs From the Wood” being painted aloud
Writing 201: Poetry
Today’s Prompt: Map
Today’s Form: Ode
Today’s Device: Metaphor
I just want to hold you in my arms
Run my fingers over your face
Kiss away your tension
Make you smile
Ease you into sleep
Watch you breathe
And love you
I have loved you 
For all of my existence
Through eons passed
For time itself.
Our souls travel one path
Intertwined
Reflections of each other
The universe our own.
Stars light our footpaths
Galaxies witness our devotion
Moonlight blesses our passion
All Creation our marriage bed.
This incarnation of our love
A love that has had no beginning
And will have no end
Bound for a moment on Earth.
This brief encounter
Our journey in Maine
Hand in hand
A mote in time.
This gallery contains 6 photos.
Along the stream’s edge serenaded by frogs Soothing water’s flow crackling of the logs Serenity within the campfire framed. In a cabin by Merrill Brook End of an avenue I took A dream is found, tranquility attained
The trees speak my name in a rustle and sigh
The clouds shape my pain as they rush on by
The lakes drink my tears where they fall as I cry
And my heart begins to heal
I dream the dreams that the rivers know
My heart soars along where the eagles go
It longs for the purity of Winter’s snow
And my heart begins to heal
Maine’s natural songs are my solace, my ease
The strength of the mountains the cool of the trees
The timeless wisdom of the infinite seas
And my heart begins to heal
My own perfect haven, my “Songs From the Wood”
To speak of my heartache, to be understood
To be cleansed of my sorrow, love life as I should
And my heart begins to heal
As I feast on your beauty you quiet my soul
You whisper of newness in forests of old
You quietly calm me when I lose control
And my heart can finally heal
I have been haunted by something that I witnessed on my way to lacrosse practice yesterday.
My son had to be in Bangor at 10:30am so we were traveling down the highway with music playing and conversation flowing. A typical weekend morning.
As I drove south, I noticed something out-of-place on the right hand side of the highway, close to the ever-present trees that line the roadways in this part of the world. As we got closer I realized that it was a bald eagle, just standing at the edge of the forest. Not moving or acknowledging the traffic flowing past it at 70 mph a mere 50 feet away. Even as I started to say “look at that eagle sitting over there” I realized that he/she was not alone.
This magnificent bird was standing next to the body of another eagle. As mates for life, as the other was dying, probably struck by an early morning traveler not unlike myself, this one was standing vigil…..waiting in vain for the other to stand, shake off the day and join it in the skies where they belonged.
I can not explain why this has affected me so.
Perhaps it was the sight of such devotion when my own relationships have been devoid of the same.
Perhaps it was my own feelings of empathy for the shattering of a relationship that should have lasted decades into an “old-age” for both parties only to end confusingly and totally with one left to mourn the loss while the other moved on not knowing the chaos left behind.
I have wondered, since yesterday morning, just how long this poor soul stayed at that spot…..waiting…..waiting…..
For something that would never again be…..
Tonight not even the quiet beauty of the Maine woods can heal my heart.
This Sunday the New England Patriots will travel to Denver to vie for the AFC Conference Title against the Broncos. The sport feeds and fantasy leagues have been focusing on the QB matchup between Tom Brady and Peyton Manning. There have been comparisons, predictions and a lot of opinion and trash talk.
As a lifelong Patriots fan I am looking forward to seeing “my guys” play and hope that they all play their best and blow the Broncos right out of the Rockies!
However, my interest in this years Patriots team has another angle. Matt Mulligan. I am a graduate of the same small (think 65 member graduating class!) high school in Central Maine and my son plays for the middle school basketball team. We are used to playing for the love of the game because we are certainly not being scouted by big colleges or major league teams in any sport whatsoever. If you are an outstanding athlete you may get some attention from the local colleges as did Matt.
Matt Mulligan is an example of what small-town kids all over this state can achieve if they hold to their dreams and play hard. Matt took an opportunity to play soccer at Husson University in Bangor, Maine and turned it into playing with a professional football team taking a shot at the Superbowl. My son loves basketball and lacrosse and hopes to be able to play one or both for a college or university some day. Matt’s success can show my son that no matter where you come from, what size school you attended, or what size university you play for, if you have talent and don’t give up you can fulfill your wildest dreams.
Just don’t give up.
Matt didn’t.
GOOD LUCK MATT AND THE ENTIRE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS TEAM. BEAT DENVER!!
Is there anything more beautiful than the aftermath of an ice storm? I have no words that can come close to describing the beauty of my yard on this lovely winters day, three days after the solstice and one day before the celebration of the birth of Christ.
I stand in awe of God’s handiwork.
I woke up to a beautiful sight this morning….snow.
For me snow seems to make everything seem serene…..hushed…..soothing.
Maybe it’s because snow always reminds me of my childhood when it seemed we got tons of snow EVERY winter and as my childhood was like something out of a Hallmark channel show, the memories are comforting and heartwarming. There were probably about twenty kids on my street and we would all spend days and days out in the snow. Building forts to have snowball fights, digging tunnels inside of the HUGE piles left by the plows on the sides of the road, sledding down any hill with enough of a slope to move us down using cardboard boxes when we didn’t have enough sleds. Some days we would all get together and skate on one of the frozen ponds or lakes after one of our parents, or some eager ice-fishermen, had gone out with a pickup and actually plowed the surface of the ice! There would be dozens of fishing lines out, their flags dotting the ice and giving us markers for races and boundaries for hockey games. The ice would not only be thick enough for the trucks but would also allow us to drag and old tire out onto the lake and use it for a bonfire! Yes, I know, not very environmentally friendly but I refuse to let that tarnish my memories….it was a great time. We would sometimes stay on the ice until after dark, drinking thermos hot chocolate, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows and actually hanging out with our parents – GASP!
OH! And let us not forget – that most joyful time for any child born in a northern environment – SNOW DAYS!!!!!
This winter I hope to be able to spend some time in the snow with my children. My wish for them is that we get enough snow so that they can experience the beauty and FUN of a Maine winter for themselves. Having lived for the last eight years on Nantucket Island where the winters are buffered by the ocean air, they have not seen a real winter since they were quite young. (At least not in person, only through Skyrim and Assassins Creed!) I want them to build their own precious memories and pass them along to their children. Kind of like a natural “paying it forward”.
Just taking that deep (snowy) breath……
Ahhhh…..snow….. >
Songs From the Wood 