(One of the many photos I've taken during my walks at Cox Arboretum ... and I'm looking forward to seeing this scene again in all its beauty, one of these days)
"Chosen Words," which began in 2004, has welcomed more visitors than I ever thought it would, thanks to those who have taken a look ... and told others.
Without these "messengers" ... people telling other people ... the counter would have moved hardly at all.
But it has, and that has been my inspiration, my impetus to continue, even on those days when I might prefer simply going with the flow.
I've gone through the ritual of selecting a poem for each day, thumbed through photos, drawings or other pieces of illustration ... and then undergone the sometimes-tedious process of putting them all together.
These elements have become my "light in the window," beckoning visitors to pause in their daily routines, to "stand in the shade a bit," to enjoy a few quiet moments, to listen to the murmur of words committed to paper and to this new medium we're sharing.
I hope that when each visitor then resumes the journey, takes up the next task at hand, he or she is at least less burdened, if not inspired, for having paused here.
I hope these have been pleasant interludes for you. I appreciate your stopping by for a visit ... and I thank you for telling a friend about this place.
Thank you for making this a pleasant journey for me, too.
Today's poem, about another kind of messenger:
Weary of the small,
in the wood-burning
stove, I step outside
on a still, crisp night
to look at the stars.
a flight of geese
moves slowly northward,
spreading the good news
to all who would hear
on this lonely night.
(originally published in Midwest Poetry Review)