natural writing

ELEVEN

So cold
Wind whips through 3 coats
And the chimes that I worship
Outside my home
Endlessly swinging in the night
And the tears drip down my cheeks
But its only nature crying
I cannot relate to her pain
I come alive when shes dying
I sleep to the sound of her sobs
Shes so lonely
The braches are now bare
And shiver in the cold
So cold

Practicing a Beautiful Stillness

Practicing a Beautiful Stillness
W.E. Leigh

When my mind is drawn to fishing
Or the American hunting-culture which it exists within
I’m reminded of my earlier years
And my grandfather
Most of his life, as far as I could tell
Took place in-between Long Island and New York City
But he still had his hunting trophies
And a love for fishing
The one time we took him, off a pier
Overlooking the ocean – I was ten; he was almost eighty
But I’ll never forget his euphoric stare
As he sat, and waited
And it was so easy, when I was younger
To stereotype relatives in Tennessee or North Carolina
But I never really appreciated how in-tune
They were with nature
I’ve seen the footprints of past residents
People who stood beside rather than above their home
And I’ve seen the patience and knowledge
Of a life outside society
I can only imagine that he was nostalgic
That the sea – briefly – revived an unspoken connection
Which I’d never seen come alive before
And never would again
So – once fishing is drawn in this light
A product of life’s endless cycle, an alliance with nature
As well as a fair amount of meditation
There is no nobler calling
And yet, I haven’t gone fishing for years
Defending myself, ironically, with the same argument
Some kind of self-defined love for nature
And the animals within it
Just something about harming creatures
Using my free time to damage them, seems malevolent
Especially when I could eat without doing it
The noble qualities are lost
Fishing - initially appears a perfect activity
Staring at the sea in quiet solitude – contemplating it
And the resulting prize of edible game
Gives it a utilitarian quality
Even though it’s a small thing to consider
I spent many pre-adolescent days learning how to fish
How to discern, skin and cook the keepers
How to eat around the bones
Nowhere did these two voices harmonize
Excepting the genesis of myself, where they duel today
Only time might provide a definitive victor
But I will still respect them both

the moon was my
dearest friend and
every night we met
to talk about how 
lonely we were;
me in a planet home
to seven billion and her,
amongst the infinite
universe
—  vp
4

Happy Blackout Day everyone. My name is Sophia and I’m a self published author. I have two scifi books on Amazon. One is a scifi mystery. The other is a scifi romance.  I have a store on zazzle where I’m selling official book merchandise.  Also I’m on Twitter!

It doesn’t have to be Spring for you to bloom.
—  It’s been said that Spring is the time of new beginnings. Enjoy it, but make sure to remember that you can have a new beginning any day, any time. // @maxwelldpoetry