Walk softly in bare feet into
the cool twilight of native woods
on a plush carpet of pine needles
and oak leaves worn soft by
the rains of early spring and the
aeration of earthworms
performing their life’s work.
Breeze blows gently, caressing
the gauzy branches of trees
whose chartreuse leaves quiver
in anticipation of secrets shared
and secrets yet to come.
A destination that has no path, only
instinct and memory’s guidance of
a sharp right past the blackberry
patch, the berries hanging heavy
and succulent on the brambles,
then a gentle left at the sweet gum
tree with spiky fruit that says,
“move along -through the sun
dappled shade, move along”.
Over the hill to the crest of
the pond levee at last, where
frogs croak hoarsely their
eternal mating calls of lust
while the sleek head of a snake
divides the glistening oil of scum
on the water’s surface,
discouraging notions of feet
dangling and daydreams, after all.
8 thoughts on “Intent Interrupted”
A destination that has no path – has a lovely connotation – leads into the woods, the next scene and visits all the secrets that hide in that world. I so enjoyed this.
I like that the “mating calls of lust” are eternal – nice touch.
I like how the bucolic imagining is interrupted by the water snake gliding in a sullied place. Glad for the title to set me up.
This is a really lovely piece zouxzoux. I had to read it a second time, get it out of my head and onto my tongue. Then the poem just flowed smooth and easy, and flowed just as the ending does, in quiet repose and that beautiful image of a snake just breaking the water skin, just as feet are kept away. “Discouraging notions of feet dangling and daydreams”, just so succinctly realizes the poem’s title, Intent Interrupted. Very well written with lush images throughout. This is a real pleasure to read. Great job!
These are lovely words. And I like the idea of your path here.
a delightful path…thanks for sharing this
This was so wonderfully written! It made me feel I was with you in the bayou, experiencing it’s wild nature firsthand.
Thanks to all. This is actually written about my regular walks in the Mississippi woods of my childhood. This pond was a frequent destination and the site still exists, although the land now belongs to a new owner so I don’t know that I’d be welcome to visit it today. Not sure I’d want to, either. Some things are best remembered in our mind’s eye.