Carl Sandburg NHS

Carl Sandburg Home
by
Cathy Alden

Listen . . .
Listen . . .
The rush of the stream over mossy rocks,
Blue jays’ raspy chattering scolding everyone in sight,
Robins singing, “Spring is here! Spring is here!”
The fuzzy bumble buzz-buzzing around my head.
See . . .
See . . .
Mr. Sun peeking through the leaves of the forest
making me laugh.
Fluffy cottony-soft clouds floating lazily by
Little ants march - marching one-by-one; small soldiers on the hunt.
Squirrels jumping from maple to oak to maple again
Chat-chat-chattering in friendly banter.
Smell . . .
Smell . . .
The gentle breeze stirring the pine needles sending
their sharp aroma to tickle my nose.
Rich vibrant red-brown soil so full of life.
The pungent earthy aroma of the busy goat barn.
Tiger lilies spreading their perfume like ladies dancing in a ballroom.
Feel . . .
Feel . . .
The rough crinkled bark of the tall pine,
The smooth glossy leaves of the flowered magnolia.
Prickly pinecones, like tiny brown Christmas trees, poke my fingers.
Mr. Sun warming my shoulders as I walk the dirt covered trails.
Taste . . .
Taste . . .
Tangy ham, honey-mustard, and nine-grain cracked hiding in my crinkled
brown paperbag,
Cool water sluicing down my throat,
Chocolate brownie so chewy-soft and nutty,
Granny Smith, tart-sweet and crunchy.
Nature . . .
Springtime . . .
Lovingly embrace Connemara.
So wonderful to get away . . .
find myself . . .
To think
To write
To be!