Every day, a photograph, a poem.
In November, for NaNoWriMo, I am inspired by the area in which I live. In the photo above, the poem is on a picture of an area found only by driving on “primitive roads” in Douglas County along the Columbia River. Enjoying the wild grasslands and wildflowers of the meadows, it’s a surprise to discover an old homestead made of granite stones, cut from the nearby hillside. We have no history of the place that we know of, and although our primitive dirt one-lane road is public, the land on the other side of the fence is private, so we were not able to get closer.
But the story we imagine from the place– inspiring. And so, a poem,
We Have Known
What if the path chosen to hike
through a meadow up the rocky hill
past the wildflowers blooming free:
clover, yarrow, lupine, and more
then stopped so suddenly
at a homestead built stone by stone
with echos of the struggles left
of a home now tumbling down—
of distant cries of daily toil
of laughter when they’d joy
of worries when a sickness strikes
of music when life was blessed
and see that times of those long gone
held all of life’s hurt and hope
held them, faced them, and moved on
like those that we have known.