Thursday in the Mountains

Ok, no more whining. Considering what the people on the east coast are going through, the little snow I have received this year is nothing. Hope you all stay warm and safe until this is all over. I have been cleaning my office for the last few days while I get over some kind of crud in my chest. Guess it is going around here because everyone I see has had it. Spring and some warm weather should fix that.

Valentine’s day is upon us again, and I think I warned you guys last year at this time, so let this be a word to the wise. GET TO THE CARD SHOP!

Great Backyard Bird Count is this weekend, so hope to get out and do some counting. The Dark Eyed Juncos and Purple Finches are in great abundance just now, and the loons are back on the lake, so maybe we’ll see something special over the few days of the count.

I’m working on the blog today. Need to add some friends to the side bar, and update with some new looks over the next week.

I’ve been reading some of my old poetry magazines before donating them to the group, and am looking at some of my older poems in the hopes that I can finish them to my satisfaction this year.

I’m rethinking it all, and would love to have some of your things, and if you have a book out, I’d be thrilled to include an excerpt and where people can buy it. Just send what you want considered to me at robtkzga at bellsouth dot net.

So not much discussion on writing today, but I do have a poem to share. During a writing group exercise we were given the word Chocolate, so here is what I came up with. Have a wonderful weekend.

Robert

Chocolate

The child still remembers

The first taste

After cheese and peanut butter

From the government,

And garden fare.

Mama’s wash money

For an extravagance.

Snowed In

Last Friday we headed out 60 for the town of Dahlonega Georgia. That’s where the eastern gold rush took place, and is a delightful tourist town in the mountains. A great place to walk through the shops, get lunch, and when friends come to visit, to take them to the Gold Museum.
On the way I wanted to see where the Benton Mackaye trail crosses the road, and I wanted to visit Woody Gap where my son and I would get on the Appalachian Trail for our hike to Springer Mountain.
So we’re in this little deli on the square across from the museum eating some delicious chicken noodle soup, and the sky started to get very dark. Then on the way to the car it started to rain, and by the time we get to our shortcut home, it was sleet on the windshield. When we crossed Bushy Head Gap and dropped into Cashes Valley there was an inch of snow on the ground, and for the next 4 hours it piled 5 inches on us. So we were snowed in for the next few days. I really did come south to get away from that, but moved to the Blue Ridge, so no use to whine about it.
We spent the weekend quilting (not me) and writing. Of course the dog loved it. She got pure joy trying to find a tennis ball under the white stuff.
There were also sinister forces in the cabin with us. One of the days I was writing, transferring my notes from yellow pad to computer, all kinds of error messages started appearing, and weird things jumped about on the screen. I freaked! Quickly I backed up all my data. So a few days later I made it in to town, and visited the computer wizard. Shortly he called and told me my computer had the "click of death." YIKES! I kind of felt like I had it also after hearing his diagnosis.
Well, Linda and I headed to the computer store 80 miles away after stopping at the Ellijay Starbucks, and I am trying to get my writing programs loaded on a new laptop. I had the old laptop for 7 years, and it was a good and faithful friend…sniff. But it’s my tool, just like a horse to a cowboy I guess, so had to do the deed and find the cash. Good news is that I had backed up all of my poems and stories, so let that be a warning to you.
The poem I’m going to share with you today is one I worked on for two years, and finally a chemistry professor named Sam gave me the one word I couldn’t find for myself. That’s why I love to share with others. It makes me a better poet.
See you soon.

Lies

Lies flow through a family like mercury
poured out in droplets, each converging
into the other, a creeping, rolling capsule.

They pour into the soul of a child,
there to condense on the tongue.
Then the man sees the eyes of the child
flashing mercury pools,
and recognizes himself.