in the woods, a stream

On Saturday I visited Weir Farm in Connecticut to meet some teachers who were exploring Reading Landscapes & Writing Nature: Flooded with Possibilities with Bryan Crandall and the Connecticut Writer's Project. I've been in touch with Bryan for a while and was excited to finally meet him in person. Bryan is wonderful—generous with his thoughts and words, sincere, kind, and encouraging— the kind of person one is lucky to have as a teacher and even luckier to call a friend.

The day was beautiful— clear,  crisp and full of promise.  I look forward to returning again sometime, perhaps with a sketchbook as well as a notebook. I'm not much of an artist, having only ever copied other paintings, but if ever nature begged to be noticed up front and personal, it's at Weir Farm. 

Earlier in the day Kristin, one of the rangers, had  collected words from the morning's discussion of water. The teachers were charged to  ponder Kristin's word list and, if inspired, to select words to reshape and make their own. 

I missed the discussion but took a copy of the words. These are my thoughts having hiked the woods of Weir Farm and pondered Kristin's word list.

In the Woods, a Stream

cold, crystal clear water

rushing now,

rippling 

         over dark, slippery

rocks 

that draw me

 in and across,

further and further

from baptism

to breath-taking quiet.

~

through beautiful seasons

and grief-stricken 

ones,

the movement of time

twists,  turns,

and passes

into the Sacred Unknown

to freedom 

and hope fulfilled,

to a heart finally flooded with peace.

view from the stone table, Weir Farm