Sunday, January 18, 2009
A little prose on life
This is for all of us who walk through life slowly and quietly, observing and thinking. For us who sometimes seem to wander without direction.
For all the romantics and dreamers. Inspired by Marty Kwitek, who as the legend has it, was seen sitting by the river with his rod and no waders quietly fishing in his mind.
Finding myself restless and lonely one summer’s evening I set out from my cabin to gather kindling for the wood stove.
I wandered toward the stream and distant woods in no hurry and without any direct path in mind.
My foot brushed a wildflower, and I stopped and peered at the delicate pink bloom, so small, so bright.
Continuing my journey, I plodded slowly to the little stream, and sitting on its bank watched the little dances of life and death played out between the trout and the mayflies.
A fish flashed in the little riffle, and I knew it was a brook trout by the white slash on its fins.
I smiled and went on my uncertain way.
Past the stream and approaching the woods, I was startled by a grouse that must have been happy and safe under his little bush, only to have me come along and spoil his tranquillity.
I sniffed the pine scented air deliciously.
The gently fading light was greeted by the distant howl of a coyote, and I knew it was time to return home.
I ambled back deep in thought about nothing.
Back in front of the fire with my pipe, I remembered what I had forgotten. My little trip was purposeless, and I had failed in my gathering of kindling. I had brought nothing back with me.
Or had I?
After a bit of thought, I knew that I had gathered memories.
I had hunted without a gun and fished without a rod.
I had taken beauty back with me, and left nothing but footprints.