this afternoon, I’m headed to a cabin in the woods. it belongs to some kind friends. and I may be out of service so I thought I’d send this a day early. I’m hoping to finish writing for a new batch of songs.
pray for me?
and I intend to finish out the thread I began on sequencing—there was more there than I expected. it seemed silly to rush.
lastly, I have handed off the new book of poetry I’ve been working on for the last few years over to my editor and friend [insert nerdy celebration]. meanwhile, I’ll begin my final read-aloud pass over it. one last pass of water to clear away any remaining sediment clinging to the walls of that channel of song.
with all this going, and very much in the spirit of this mini writing retreat, I thought I’d share with you a poem from one of my favorites. this is from Tagore’s collection entitled The Gardener.
The Gardener—LXIX
I hunt for the golden stag.
You may smile, my friends, but I
pursue the vision that eludes me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands, because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
You come and buy in the market
and go back to your homes laden with
goods, but the spell of the homeless
winds has touched me I know not when
and where.
I have no care in my heart; all my
belongings I have left far behind me.
I run across hills and dales, I wander
through nameless lands—because I am
hunting for the golden stag.
sorry for last week’s absence. a storm took out our power for a couple days and fried our fridge, stove and wifi router… some water/pipe issues as well. we should be all good soon though.
thanks for being here. I write weekly sharing poetry, songs, musings, thoughts on creative life, and hopefully some encouragement… my first collection of poetry, Snowmelt to Roots, is available in my shop, (or on Amazon). and my music is available here.
peace,
Z