Trails

Walking through cathedral pines, sun beams piercing the cool air, lighting my path.

Heaven.

I don't think there is anything I enjoy more than my walks in the woods.

Each one filled with discovery...

...of color

and texture.

something that makes me laugh...

My "Prego Tree."

or something that makes me say, wow.....

Art installation in Southboro Mass. Strips of wool of every color,

found in a grandmothers attic and made into flowing sculptures

This week, I came across a photo of a texture carved by beetles into a log. It inspired this weeks "Poetry Friday" post. I hope you will enjoy it and stop by this weeks host- Jan @ Bookseed Studio and see the lovely poems posted there.

Here is my poem for this week.

Little Artists

When a toddler experiences the many forms of art early in life,

it is like putting a pan of water on to boil.

Some of the flames:

• the musical lullabies his parent sings

• images and words in picture books

• and the tactile experience of discovering texture and color

invisibly start to heat up his unexplored creativity.

Quietly, almost unnoticed, a kind of joy and creative excitement begins to percolate inside him.

He wants to touch, hold, and taste all the delicious things around them. Art is being discovered and celebrated with their every sense.

Tiny hands begin to give expression to the toddler's new creative feelings, each time:

• lullabies are sung

• blocks are stacked and tumbled

• crayons are grabbed and pulled across a white page in random strokes

• play dough is squished and oozed out between surprised fingers

• or tiny hips and limbs sway in their first dance.

Tiny hearts find inspiration in every hour of everyday:

• in the warm light dappled on the backyard leaves

• on the soft pastel and vibrant primary color petals of garden flowers

• tasting new shapes and textures of food

As long as the "child's pot" is replenished with inspiration and experiences, art will boil and flow out of pens, keyboards, brushes, fingers and mouths for a lifetime.

Creative expression can also come in unexpected places:

Art isn't just a class that you take in elementary school (although that, itself can be life-changing for some) it expressed in every action we take, every word we say and in every career we have.

I have expressed this creative energy in so many varied ways during my life:

• at 5:00 a.m. in our local bakery, setting up the freshly made croissants in the case and making the signs.

• as an admin in a publishing company in my correspondence, and decorating for holiday parties.

• using my sewing machine in the design and creation of bridesmaid dresses, curtains and quilts.

• with the squeeze of a decorator bag full of frosting on a birthday cake.

I thank my uncles, Tom and Butch who listened, and watched and cared enough to nurture those first little bubbles of creativity in me... the sparkle in their eyes, their sweet fascination with each creative thing I did as a child, sharing their own art and processes, and encouraging me at a very young age to explore their art supplies and express my self in any way I wanted. I have been blessed. This is why we as creatives, must walk through the world with the eyes of a child, filled with curiosity and excitement at even the smallest thing.

Will a dab, dot or messy smudge

lead to a showing in a gallery?

Or a toddler steeping you a pretend cup of tea...

...become a chef?

Or stacking and tumbling blocks

lead to being an architect?

Maybe, possibly..... some childhood murmurings do go on to become passions, and passions to amazing careers.

An adorable recital...

might lead to this....

Or...

it could just have been one of many creative moments in a child's life that are

for the pure joy of it, and nothing else.

Although,

it may in the end, lead to this....

and isn't that beautiful.

Robed in Fleece

Lately, my attempts to get back to sleep after early morning shuffles, have dismally failed.

I close my eyes, and try to clear my mind, but a switch has flipped on this poet's mind.

My muse has taken her seat at the edge of my bed.

Try as I might...

I cannot ignore her clever poetic suggestions and drift back to my sleepy "happy place."

So I rise.

Heading down the shadowed halls, wrapped in fleece, the images out my picture window catch my eye. After a deep breath of surrender, I am kind of liking this routine.

An unexpectedly, peaceful way to start the morning.

This week two poems have flowed out my heart at 6:00 a.m. so fast, that I may keep this up and see if a collection of morning imaginings will be my muse's gift.

This morning's poem...

...and one from earlier this week.

So Happy Poetry Friday everyone. Hope this morning's dawn brought you a smile.

For more lovely poetry, please visit the blog of this week's host: The Miss Rumphius Effect

 Thank you for hosting! See you next week!