A Certain Kind of Beauty
I would like to share a poem that my best friend wrote in the years before her death about travelling.
It’s important to embrace the life we have, it happens once and we sometimes think too long on the before and after instead of the QUESTION: what do we enjoy now? How do we best use this NOW?
And, with that said, here goes:
“A Certain Kind of Beauty”
( from The Mother Lode)
There is a certain kind of beauty from the Mother Lode I can’t explain. I see it all the
time traveling winding roads on days that
paint post card pictures across my eyes.
The view from my car window sets the stage
for a display of rolling hills and fresh clumps
of green shrubs that undress in the closet of
I see russet soil fenced by blades of grass that grip rocks folding into the sloping mounds, as
low whispers off the breeze blow spirit to my
ears through my cars opened window.
As my P.T. Cruiser moved cautiously on the windy asphalt road, I caught a glimpse of a
huge black oak alone on a distant rise, and as
I looked at his unfolded arms that spread out like a fearless conqueror.
Turning on the bend of the road I knew there would be a view of one of many historical towns wrapped in chronicles of their past, with white chipped fences and structures with small shops selling artifacts.
Every time I travel there I’m immerse myself in stories of the exploits of Black Bart and of John A Sutter who came out of his fort in search of a source of lumber, and was named after a creek 45 miles from the fort.
Listening to these mesmerizing adventures, from a quaint little restaurant in Sutter Creek, carried me in moods of past gold rush days, as I gazed
at the view from the picture window.
And when dusk to fell in a scarf of sunset hues, I felt spirit and beauty from the Mother Lode that I couldn’t explain , because from my home in the city sunsets weren’t always so beautiful.
Marie J. Ross