Thursday Treasures – a Series<\/strong><\/em><\/h3>\n\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
by Lynda McKinney Lambert<\/em><\/p>\n\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve spent days thinking about September. How can I write a poem about her? Rapid changes are occurring all around me this month and I\u2019m getting dizzy! I\u2019m downright giddy with bursts of nervous energy. This zest charge was unexpected, hidden in the mists of the crisp early morning. I floated, it seemed, at the crest of September with my feet stretched downwards to dig into the sands of its shoreline. I have been unsuccessful!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Since the beginning of this fast-moving month I tried to pay attention to the small nuances and living details I experienced. I moved carefully, even cautiously, from day to day through the month of Ever-changing September. Yes! I am standing at the mid-point of the month and I still feel like I am lost at sea.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I took a deep breath, held it in for a couple of seconds as I remembered my fingers. I looked at the computer screen. I exhaled. \u00a0Nearby, my sleeping dog shifts in his black furry bed. In his sleep he snorts, and my leather chair squeaks as my fingers pound out some letters on the stiff keyboard. I move my body forward again, and bring my mind back to September. The sun streams through the dusty window. My back seeks the stability of my solid chair.\u00a0 I raise my hands to my face, close my eyes and think about my breath. As my chest rises, I become aware of the sharp, piercing call of the eagle flying above the trees outside this window.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At the beginning of the month, I took short walks in the woods.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.lyndalambert.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/06\/18_WoodsPath_3-300x225.jpg?resize=300%2C225\")
<\/a><\/p>\nI saw subtle changes, My two dogs stopped and sniffed the breeze. They tried to catch the news of the day, to bring it home and share it with me. We paused on the path and I watched them stop and stare into the thickets, then up into the trees. They paid close attention to all the wild flowers as I touched them. I tried to concentrate on the details \u2013 to memorize each little fine distinction of a Yellow Crownbeard or leaf of the White Snakeroot plant. \u00a0I asked, \u201cHow does it look in the shade?<\/p>\n
How does it feel to the touch?\u00a0 Try to remember it all!\u201d<\/p>\n
I reached out, touched the trunks of trees as we traveled together in the afternoon sun. I recall the feeling of textures and the girth of a tree in my arms as I tried to encircle it. I needed to touch the overlapping surface of the Locust tree, put it in my memory bank where I can retrieve it when wintry days become anxious and lonely.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Eventually, I realized what I searched for in September. Every new day in this quest twisted and turned in on me as I searched for the form that would be perfect for my September poem. I began to visualize myself as a whirling dervish. I swirled in circles, round and round, and my feet were on sifting and shifting sand all the time. My thoughts raced far faster than I could ever write. My entire body quivered inside because of all the raw sensations that this month gave me.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I realized September is the one month of the year that is a charade. She is undependable, captivating and quixotic. She cannot be captured in the Pantoum I had intended to put her into. I thought, \u201cI\u2019ll catch her by a sliver of one of her yellow petals! Then, I\u2019ll flatten her out between the pages of a Villanelle.\u201d But as it turned out, she became a book of sand, and I simply could not get a grasp on her!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This morning I tried to put some words to my paper. I had to step over obstacles of images and feelings. I said, \u201cI have to just go after a little piece of September. I need to catch her unawares, and grab what I can. It might be just a fragment, or an adjective. Do it quickly, and run fast, bring that piece to my paper and slap it down with glue. I\u2019ll have to use E-600 for this job! What will be large enough to hold uncooperative September?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes! I\u2019ve got it now. My tribute to September will be an ODE. It will celebrate precocious September perfectly.\u201d<\/p>\n
My \u201cOde for September\u201d must be hefty and as unsettled as she.
\nMy 10-line stanzas will be a passionate song about September, the Whirling Dervish!<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.lyndalambert.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/Nature_16_YellowCrownBeard_ReallyGood-300x225.jpg?resize=300%2C225\")
<\/a><\/p>\nPhotos by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n
Copyright, 2018. all rights reserved.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Photo: Yellow Crown Beard in bloom. September.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
this essay was published in Walking by Inner Vision Blog<\/em>, Sept. 15, 2014<\/p>\nPublished in Magnets and Ladders Literary Magazine<\/em>,\u201d fall\/winter edition, 2015.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n
Note:<\/p>\n
This creative non-fiction essay is included \u00a0in my book, Walking by Inner Vision: Stories & Poems. DLD Books, 2017:<\/p>\n
You can buy this book through my Author\u2019s site at:<\/p>\n
Visit my Author’s Site – Click Here.<\/a><\/p>\nThank you for visiting with ME today!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve spent days thinking about September. How can I write a poem about her? Rapid changes are occurring all around me this month and I\u2019m getting dizzy! I\u2019m downright giddy with bursts of nervous energy. This zest charge was unexpected, hidden in the mists of the crisp early morning. I floated, it seemed, at the crest of September with my feet stretched downwards to dig into the sands of its shoreline. I have been unsuccessful!<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Since the beginning of this fast-moving month I tried to pay attention to the small nuances and living details I experienced. I moved carefully, even cautiously, from day to day through the month of Ever-changing September. Yes! I am standing at the mid-point of the month and I still feel like I am lost at sea.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I took a deep breath, held it in for a couple of seconds as I remembered my fingers. I looked at the computer screen. I exhaled. \u00a0Nearby, my sleeping dog shifts in his black furry bed. In his sleep he snorts, and my leather chair squeaks as my fingers pound out some letters on the stiff keyboard. I move my body forward again, and bring my mind back to September. The sun streams through the dusty window. My back seeks the stability of my solid chair.\u00a0 I raise my hands to my face, close my eyes and think about my breath. As my chest rises, I become aware of the sharp, piercing call of the eagle flying above the trees outside this window.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At the beginning of the month, I took short walks in the woods.<\/p>\n
I saw subtle changes, My two dogs stopped and sniffed the breeze. They tried to catch the news of the day, to bring it home and share it with me. We paused on the path and I watched them stop and stare into the thickets, then up into the trees. They paid close attention to all the wild flowers as I touched them. I tried to concentrate on the details \u2013 to memorize each little fine distinction of a Yellow Crownbeard or leaf of the White Snakeroot plant. \u00a0I asked, \u201cHow does it look in the shade?<\/p>\n How does it feel to the touch?\u00a0 Try to remember it all!\u201d<\/p>\n I reached out, touched the trunks of trees as we traveled together in the afternoon sun. I recall the feeling of textures and the girth of a tree in my arms as I tried to encircle it. I needed to touch the overlapping surface of the Locust tree, put it in my memory bank where I can retrieve it when wintry days become anxious and lonely.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Eventually, I realized what I searched for in September. Every new day in this quest twisted and turned in on me as I searched for the form that would be perfect for my September poem. I began to visualize myself as a whirling dervish. I swirled in circles, round and round, and my feet were on sifting and shifting sand all the time. My thoughts raced far faster than I could ever write. My entire body quivered inside because of all the raw sensations that this month gave me.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I realized September is the one month of the year that is a charade. She is undependable, captivating and quixotic. She cannot be captured in the Pantoum I had intended to put her into. I thought, \u201cI\u2019ll catch her by a sliver of one of her yellow petals! Then, I\u2019ll flatten her out between the pages of a Villanelle.\u201d But as it turned out, she became a book of sand, and I simply could not get a grasp on her!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n This morning I tried to put some words to my paper. I had to step over obstacles of images and feelings. I said, \u201cI have to just go after a little piece of September. I need to catch her unawares, and grab what I can. It might be just a fragment, or an adjective. Do it quickly, and run fast, bring that piece to my paper and slap it down with glue. I\u2019ll have to use E-600 for this job! What will be large enough to hold uncooperative September?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes! I\u2019ve got it now. My tribute to September will be an ODE. It will celebrate precocious September perfectly.\u201d<\/p>\n My \u201cOde for September\u201d must be hefty and as unsettled as she. Photos by Lynda McKinney Lambert.<\/p>\n Copyright, 2018. all rights reserved.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Photo: Yellow Crown Beard in bloom. September.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n this essay was published in Walking by Inner Vision Blog<\/em>, Sept. 15, 2014<\/p>\n Published in Magnets and Ladders Literary Magazine<\/em>,\u201d fall\/winter edition, 2015.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Note:<\/p>\n This creative non-fiction essay is included \u00a0in my book, Walking by Inner Vision: Stories & Poems. DLD Books, 2017:<\/p>\n You can buy this book through my Author\u2019s site at:<\/p>\n Visit my Author’s Site – Click Here.<\/a><\/p>\n Thank you for visiting with ME today!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.lyndalambert.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/06\/18_WoodsPath_3.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n
\nMy 10-line stanzas will be a passionate song about September, the Whirling Dervish!<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n