Attention (writing to a prompt)
by Gail Snyder
I like to think that I pay attention, but I admit, I miss most of what is happening around me. So many silent stories that escape my notice. Only by chance did I see the blue mud wasp drag a dead grasshopper across the dirt in the backyard. Only by chance did I see the fence lizard dart out and grab the grasshopper from the wasp. I watched as the wasp wandered in circles, searching in vain for the meal it had intended to leave buried for its offspring. And then I moved on, leaving the real-life drama of these two neighbors to continue without me.
I would like to stick my head in the soil and observe the roots of the newly-planted penstemons finding their way in the dark, taking up water and nutrients, leaning into life. I blessed these little plants when I put them in the ground, but I don't even know what that means, except to say that I am in love with this beautiful earth.
PROMPT:
“The maple tree in my front yard tells the silent story of the passing seasons.”
~ First line in Autumn Song: Essays on Absence by
.
As someone in our group, I think it was Rebecca said in your last Weds. Session, “It’s the little things that count,” and Gazza’s response to your prompt embodies that perfectly and reminds us to open our eyes and take in the life and death drama’s going on right before our eyes. The little things writer’s need to stop for, open their eyes, emotionally wrap their heads around and put their pens into on paper.