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IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK
A Morning’s Walk
How did we claim the crown of kings?
“All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking”
Friedrich Nietzsche
Before the mist takes its leave
an early plod down the nettled path
between seeping bogs of yellow and green
and brash tenor frogs heralding spring
A few moments to gather my thoughts this day
cast wayward worries off and away
let fresh ideas push up sturdy and strong
I welcome earth’s counsel as I walk along
I know the day’s deviltry lies in wait
rumors of troubles that swirl and portend
and soon this path must narrow and then
conflicted lands will claim me again
Ah, but this moment I wade
in maroon-striped bog onion,
green umbrellas of Mayapple
sprouts of pale lilies and clouds of wake robin
One thing we have mastered — complication
Tying up knots in the smooth silk of days
making toil where none truly exists
settling vague scores with phantom fists
