Written on 9/18, after a road-trip from St Albans, Vermont back to the Capitol Region of New York.
Musings in the Maples
by mk hubbard
I love that the whole state seems to bleed syrup
instead of blood
— roots dive deep into the Earth, & maples are very strong.
The people there view the golden liquid as the nectar of life,
replacing other golds, like honey & precious metal.
The trees are lined with taps, connecting forests together,
a web of dependence on the sugary substance that oozes from their cores.
The farmlands are large, and double yellow lined roads with their higher speed limits, still wind & curve forcing you to slow down,
to make you look around.
Like the maple liquid itself, the drips of sweetness come at their own time, as you travel further & further North…
The mountain top with its trees changing in drips to fall foliage as the sun sets over them, reminds you of the snow to come–
And the ghost of chairlifts swing in the summer heat, waiting to be filled with people, excited for another sugary substance, although this time a powder.
As the Moon rises over the trees, it illuminates the change in a sadder way than the sun does– reminding you that seasons changing have nothing to do with the whims of what we as humans want, but what the Earth demands.
You start a lesson with a scale
with your brain remembering how the note sounds,
drawing a buzz as it recite the fingerings.
Up and down, then back up, maybe a step down to go two steps up again
the pattern sure in its cycle.
Music reminds us that things have beats & measures
not unlike poetry. not unlike science. not unlike communication.
The number four is important in music, and prevalent in nature and division.
Today though, I was reminded of a minor scale;
A note below the natural, yet still a part of the greater piece, evoking the sounds of longing & melancholy.
It reminded me of seasons, of the number four and how things are always connected.
You start a lesson with a scale, because the sureness of what is supposed to come next…
calms the chaos around you.
I tend to want to start EVERYTHING— but have a hard time finishing the tasks. Perhaps it’s bad follow through, or perhaps a need for it to be perfect that causes me to abort a project, or even better, a combination, but it has been something I have been dealing with all my life.
I had a professor talk to us about the importance of telling others your goals:“You are more likely to complete something if you can verbalize & visualize the outcome,” he lectured.
Yet the concept struck a chord. So here’s a small list of the projects/post ideas I have. If I write it out, it counts!
- I am currently visiting ice cream shops with Ryan #icecreamquest. It has been a really fun way to get out of the apartment—but we had to start spacing the ice cream stops out more so that we don’t end up becoming sick of it.
- I have been researching skin care routines– so many products! I have a green tea and/or tea tree allergy (not positive ) which makes finding products time consuming. I aim to compile a list of products for sensitive skin.
- I am partaking in the GoodReads Reading Challenge. Basically, you take the number of books you read last year, and add 3. I read a lot last year (57) so my goal this year is 60. I have some catching up to do this month & plan on posting the books I ended up enjoying.
Follow me on my project/fashion/writing/eating/reading journey!
Twitter, FB & Instagram : @afoxinredroses
Good night, sweet night, loving night
Sweeps the landscape
Dark and draping, looming and glowing
A blanket of dreams
Softens the harshest of light,
Promises of better
When you awake
I imagine us being tucked in by Mother Earth
Candescent against the back drop,
The stars can be seen,
Flirting with the eye,
Now you see me or perhaps not, they twinkle
In their code of dust and memories
When we dream, where do we go?
I imagine us up there, with the stars
Because why else are we told to
Shoot for the Stars!
If we were not already en route?
Love Poems for an Existential Crisis- by morgan
When I fell in love with you,
My body knew first.
My heart went sort of like beat, tap, beat
every time my eyes took you in
and flipped you upside down and right side up
in the back of my brain.
The rhythm of my sleep became relaxed,
And I could only be warmed
By your heat.
Science you say, love I say.
Was it science that put you
Before my eyes?
It was science that kissed me so?
Science might react, but circumstances are ever-changing…
Nay, I rebuke this notion that my body knew first.
Because even if your touch made my heart go
tip, tap, beat
I let you in the door, using my feet
That I firmly planted.