I am told of a sacred place of hunting ground
Of which he will take me
Sooner than the sun sets in the west
We trail a creek up a steep incline
A beehive appearing boulder
Rises in solitude near the bluffs
Among the pines, ash and oaks
Of the Shawnee National Forest
This mammoth of magnificence reaches 25 feet tall
As he shows me this tribute to Valle
A natural granite ladder leads to elation
Hands, without hesitation, pull me skyward bound
Feet sturdy on unyielding rungs of purity
I tread steps of topography seldom trekked
Reaching the pinnacle
I am solidly secure in the moment
Of our love atop an immovable existence.
D.J. Hall (August 2007)
Search for hidden pond
With an eager anticipation
For a successful expedition
Opportunity for abundant fishing
For answers, blue gill, our emotions unraveled.
Propels us through a path less traveled
Traipsing mile after mile in summer’s humidity
Past endless rows of sunny simplicity.
Yellow faces watch in silence as we feel
Relentless dampness seep from pores at
Neck, cleavage, face and arms, as the
weight of the chaos I have created
continually trickles through my thoughts.
Much like the unremitting, infuriating mosquitoes.
Threatening to drive me crazy.
Onward, our heavy feet trudge, through a
Midwestern field full of tall grass and ticks
Accompanied by droning honeybees and
Annoyance of horseflies, heat and his enthusiasm.
Sulking, I discover beauty beneath the surface.
Like many other spheres of life,
I find a hidden eco-system at the edge of the pond,
Woven between the algae, guppies and tiny frogs.
As I sit and fume about my discomfort, misery and him
is the certainty that we, too, are intermingled.
Energy, fate, force or whim
Compels me to accept the reality that I had
attempted to submerge.
The certainty that I believe in our love, our future,
and that our affections will once again resurface.