To Gillet Pond
To Gillet Pond
In wildness is the preservation of the world
-Thoreau
Find the trailhead beyond cell reach
How does one push through overwhelm? The news buries me beneath a mountain of anxiety, so I leave my swivel chair spinning when I ditch my computer inside. The trick
is to turn off all notifications and badges on your smartphone. Misnomer. Maybe holdouts without such devices are the smart ones. Silence the dings from the family’s group chat, appointment reminders, and memories of this past year’s losses.
A warbler breaks into my head
with a trill
I agree, Henry David. (I’ve pulled out my pocket notebook while I sit on a fallen log to say this.) Under the canopy, I worry that I am a woman alone in the woods. Fear hurries me
to a place of seclusion, surrounded by fallen limbs and the green understory, the air gravid as an overdue woman whose water is ready to break. At the pond, I am safe in Mother Earth’s arms. Why must I let fear waylay me? Distant traffic sounds carry. Wary. Always, there’s a reason. But, look: an American copper and a grizzled skipper have landed on the nearby orange butterfly weed. I pull out my camera.
Nature paintings:
ascendant trail markers
8 thoughts on "To Gillet Pond"
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Yesssss “Find the trailhead beyond cell reach”
Ahhh, what one hears when technology is silent “A warbler/breaks into my head/with a trill”(a lovely sound indeed!)
Love: “Nature paintings:/ascendant trail markers”
Thanks for reading, Pam! I’ve been itching to get back here, but this month’s been a bear!
I love your American sentences!
Thanks for riding the train with my American Sentences!
Love your work. Understand busy and glad you have lit here from time to time!
I like the pond as destination – the life-giver, womb. And thanks for the shoutout, Ellen – I have a dumb phone!!
That’s hilarious about the phone! You & Roberta!
Yep…Roberta and I have an agreement about her getting a smartphone when I get on FaceBook and vice versa. So far we two stubborn women have not budged!
Beautiful piece–its amazing how just a little bit of space can be bost restorative and also a reminder of our own humanness. I love “Fear hurries me/to a place of seclusion, surrounded by fallen limbs and the green understory, the air gravid…”
Thank you, Shaun. Yes! Noticing these moments brings us back to the people we’re meant to be.