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THE GREAT OUTDOORS poem

Posted by Richard L. Prov... on May 18, 2009 - 14:57
from the ABC set POETRY - A Passage of Motion 1

The Great Outdoors

Today is a slide of
wind, soothing as stream’s
cascading surge

ducks hidden in clouds
of evening shade,
silhouettes and movement.

Rain continues its pounce
of warmth, sprinkles
like shoreline clothing

and loons create
callings within eerie mist.

Dusk weaves between trees
sunbeams fanning
across ripples, the lake

providing respite, canoes
eager, searching.

Nature’s union is memory.

© Richard L. Provencher 2004-2009

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Comments

SundaysChild | May 18, 2009 - 15:43

Good work, Richard LP, very evocative.

pinda | May 18, 2009 - 15:49

I liked the feel to it,very desciptive an caputred my attention. I say 10 out of 10 with this one I loved it Richard

Do you write short stories?.I think that would suit your writing style well

Nathan Bednarek | May 18, 2009 - 18:41

Beautiful and soothing. Well done.

Nathan.

Richard L. Prov... | May 19, 2009 - 01:39

Thank you SundaysChild. It is a joy to be able to share one's feeling of the outdoors. Richard LP

Richard L. Prov... | May 19, 2009 - 01:41

Thanks, Nathan. As I said before, your work is also very good. Richard LP

Richard L. Prov... | May 19, 2009 - 01:46

Hello Pinda, I place names with my reply comments because I get mixed up in the place to put them. Nature is a special place for me and I went fishing in a local pond, no catch-um fish. My wife kept encouraging me. I like to personally reply to every comment from people like yourself. Yes, I have many stories posted and others with my co-author wife and co-authored three novels. You can check them out at: www.synergebooks.com. They are INTO THE FIRE; SOMEONE'S SON; and FOOTPRINTS. All the best, Richard LP.

threeleafshamrock | May 24, 2009 - 00:32

You 'paint' a lovely poem Richard, I could almost feel it; picture post card stuff and very enjoyable.

Chris ;)

Richard L. Prov... | May 24, 2009 - 12:01

Thank you, Chris. I truly believe the woods and its accessories are gifts to us. And sitting quietly by a river bank watching my twelve year-old son fishing for trout is a memory to behold. Especially when Scott kept screaming at the mosquitoes, singing Hallelujah's each time his line got caught, eventually jumping into the creek to retrieve a lure. Scott is now 41 and I wonder if he remembers that long-ago scene? Richard LP