Poetry Corner – Description as Mood Food

Hello Dear Ones!

Last week on Poetry Corner I wrote about each of us being the poem in our everyday lives. Expressing our individuality through our uniqueness. Taking pride in all that makes us special, allowing us to stand out in a crowd – even if only a crowd of one – ourselves.

I also touched briefly on my pleasure at reading quality description – stand alone paragraphs, phrases and poems that ignite the reader’s senses to flare into action. A well written piece can actually activate a physical response as though the body itself was experiencing the event first hand. Craftily complied phrases about food should have the mouth juices flowing. Expressions of tactile origin can have you scratching an itch or brushing an invisible spider from your shoulder or rubbing your fingers and thumb together as though that rose petal truly lay between them.

Back in May of ’09 I was privileged to attend a 5 day personal retreat at Queenswood Centre here in Victoria. The grounds are breathtakingly beautiful and the landscape is nourished and nourishing. There’s quite a view from the cafeteria window overlooking the lawns. It was at 8:45 in the morning that I had the privilege of the following encounter as I sat looking out that very window. May my experience touch and enthrall your senses as it did mine that very day:

From the Cafeteria Window

Still as a naturalist’s painting
Each leaf perfect
Tones and shades and hues
Of greens
Exquisitely blend.
Rose and reds and russets
Complimenting, contrasting, clashing
Like the visual cacophony
Of a world renowned symphony
It’s first day of rehearsal.
The eye wants to seek out,
To stroke,
Every texture.
The awe, the majesty
Is spellbinding
Until …
*
Into the landscape
On as yet unsure
But gentle foot
Steps the gangly grace
Of a newly born fawn.
Tasty morsels entice its senses
As its wee head bends
To nibble at the grasses.
The calmness of the scene
Is broken only by the
Curious exploration
Of innocence
And yet …
*
There is now incredible stillness
In the observer
Not daring to move a muscle
To breathe
To take the chance of
A single blink breaking
The perfection
Of the moment
This snapshot of time
As still as a naturalist’s painting.

In Light and Laughter,

Marcia

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