(Just an ordinary gathering of leaves at curbside ... but they caught my eye with their colors, shapes, texture ... and I captured the moment with my camera)
Sometimes it seems that all my poems are rooted in memory.
This one is no exception.
From those distant beginnings ... the foundation stones of all those "ordinary moments" in a young boy's life ... to today ... there's a long bridge of discovered excitement, adventure.
I often go trudging back across that bridge, in search of those beginnings, because I see them now as more than just ordinary events.
Isn't that always the case?
The poem:
ORDINARY MOMENTS
... in which I discover
travel-rounded stones
on the meandering
creek bed of my mind,
each a found treasure
whirring me back
to rainy days spent
with musty books, nights
floating in wood smoke,
mornings with eggs
frying in a dark skillet,
moments when the world
seemed to be
just waiting for me
to kick off the covers,
resume my pursuit
of this great adventure.
© 2001
(originally published in Midwest Poetry Review)
Today's word: travel-rounded
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