We went specifically to be inspired by the rather astounding beauty of the canyon. In that sense, the hike was a complete success. I felt very inspired. I feel that, were I a painter, I would suck at landscape painting. Every time I attempted to describe what I was seeing, my mind shut down. I could only focus on the smaller details.
Then I got distracted by a squirrel. His burrow was about 20 feet away from where I was sitting. He sat still for a couple photos, then worked his way around to the streambed, ending up about 5 feet away from me.
Here is his picture, from when he was closer to his burrow:
And he inspired a poem.
My Squirrel Friend
I hear movement in some scrub oak
up the bank from where I sit.
I watch the spot with my eyes,
trying not to move my head.
It seems I have discovered
a squirrel's burrow.
My squirrel friend has
super powers,
for he can resist the siren call
of the cellophane wrapper,
completely unlike his
sin verguenza cousins who live
in the Grand Canyon
and will raid your pack
though you're standing two feet away.
Greedy Bastards.
And that's it. I quite like the poem, and I really enjoyed the experience.
5 comments:
Not bad. I would change a word or two here and there, but overall, not bad at all.
I agree. This is very raw, I still need to revise it, but I was so excited I had to go ahead and post it. It's almost exactly as I wrote it Saturday.
Good approach.
I like it as is.
If I'd been on that hike, I probably would have described the landscape in prose and then tried to convert that to a poem. Poetry is usually not my forte.
Thanks.
I usually write the prose first, as well, but I'm starting to think in terms of line breaks and stanzas.
I almost feel like a poet some days.
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