Tuesday July 8th, 2008

The exercise:

Take a line from a favorite poem and use it as your starter.

Mine:

Robert Frost - Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. I stand teetering on their edge, the trees before me and the meadow at my back. The shadows call out, daring me to come reveal their secrets, to see what no other man has laid eyes on.

I raise the heel of my right foot, then pause. I do not sway from side to side; I am still grounded and there is no wind to buffet me. My toes dig in to the earth and I realize that I am barefoot, but I do not look down. I have eyes only for the shadows hiding in the woods.

I listen to the water playing in the rocks of the riverbed in the meadow. It is calming, melodic, almost cheerful; my heel returns to the earth. But still I do not look away.

Time passes by but I cannot say how much as there is no sun in the sky. Yet it is bright enough to be midday here at the edge of the woods so lovely. This is most odd, but still I search the shadows.

Am I looking for someone? Yes, that feels right. A friend who is lost, perhaps. I remember the grass in the meadow did not go beyond my knees, so they cannot be back there. They must be in the woods. I take a single step forward and the shadows fall upon my toes warmly.

Or perhaps they fell in the river and the current carried them away. I try to collect my thoughts, one foot in the darkness, one in the light. Which way, which way...

I hear a voice from far, far away. From the meadow? It sounds so familiar, I turn away from the woods to find the speaker and the spell is broken.

I shake my head to clear my foggy mind and begin to walk back to the meadow, back into the light.