Art in the Valley
Mountains in bloom. Walking past
cow patties into the womb of art.
Into the womb of everything.
Into my senses—I hold this bowl you made
—I look at your face and hold this bowl
you made. Summertime mountains and forest
are holding me in a luscious embrace.
And the dogs understand…
sweltering songs, surrounded by visions
of imagination. The tools are not what they seem.
Ceramic pages—stiff, but not frozen.
We all stare. Awaiting the rain. Waiting.
People wait for trains. There are so many people
passing through who are just on a journey.
Life in the valley provides
people when you want them, solitude
when you need it most. Lush green rolling hills,
the beauty of the hollow. Who knew the music
and the rain both help us grow?
Worries melting away. Say! When will the muse
strike? Brought on by a light breeze…
rain shouldn’t feel so heavy, should it?
The rub. There are too many words, some lost,
some found. Aha! Tools bent to a new purpose.
We all need a poetry moment. Soothing souls.
What if we’re best together?
Brought together in a wooded paradise.
~ voices of poetry table visitors at Art on Cullers Run 2023
(assembled by Charise M. Hoge)