Live. Laugh. Love.

“It’s sad that we live in a society that has the refrain ‘thank God it’s Friday;’ that means you despise 5/7ths of your life.” 

Wendell Berry

We live in a busy, bustling culture; we are people on the move. While there is nothing inherently wrong with a busy schedule, unchecked, it can prevent us from enjoying the simple pleasures of what makes us human; relationships and nature are good examples.

Sonnenberg Station Men's Ensemble 

I am privileged to be a member of a men's vocal ensemble. This season, a segment of our repertoire spoke of humanity's connection to the earth, with themes of nature, healing, peace, and the value of hard work. Our director likes the songs to be introduced, as most of them have a great story and communicate a meaningful message.

I was invited to introduce this block of songs. Not being sure of what I wanted to say (which is unusual for me), I began reading some poets who make frequent use of these themes. Still, I couldn't find anything that fit in the way I thought it should. 

I live on 63 acres, which includes woods, a multiple acre pond, and a substantial garden, all surrounded by organic farmland; I decided to take a walk to my favorite hill that overlooks all these scenes and sit for a while. The poem that I am sharing with you now is the result of my thoughts, observations, and reflections. Enjoy, and Happy Thanksgiving.

Fall, In Love.

Peace all around.

Her cool laughter echoes across the tranquil lake, receiving a gentle, rippling reply.

Whisper still.

Towering majestic colors chatter in response to her soft, delicate voice, and relinquish their grasp under the influence of her persuasive song.

Whisper still.

Memories of recent days flood my senses; 

The muffled tapping of my hoe as it prepares the earth for new life; 

The warm, smiling sun upon my back; 

The fresh scent following an afternoon shower; 

The hint of green poking its infant head from the dark, loamy soil; 

The sweet juice of the first ripe strawberry; 

Whisper still.

How often she has beckoned to me, and instead I have chosen the sights and sounds of a world to which she does not belong, cannot understand, and where her melodies cannot be heard. 

The noise, the clamor, the seemingly endless melancholy cycles amidst meaningless rush and roar seek to tear me from her grasp.

Whisper still.

The days of my life flurry away as the hurried leaves upon her breath. 

Yet, she nurtures, loves, waits, still. 

All for which I labor, strive, and toil will not purchase another second of what I miss; that which I dismiss. 

“Be still,” I hear her say. “Listen. Love. Laugh. Live.” 

She continues forever, and someday, I shall join her in an everlasting embrace.

Peace all around.

This summer working in the garden; hilling potatoes.