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 Page: Profile: Poetry   Total Views: 10,217,722  

Poem Specs

VxPoem ID: 4733

Category:
pagan_spirituality

Posted: June 17th. 2004 9:51:13 PM

Views: 1696

Walking the Hedge

by HoosierHedgewitch

Age Group: Adult



Bending, shaping, life we are making.
Within or without, silence or shout.
Looking out to the light, yet comfort in dark.
Deep in the woods, cheery song of a lark.

Walking the hedge looking out to the light,
Outside looking in, both can seem right.
Simple pleasures, life abound,
memories stirred from all around.

Feet firmly planted yet walking the ledge,
I feel most comfort while walking the hedge.




Author's Notes: Contemplating the hedge in Hedgewitch:

Yes, we sure do create both mental and physical barriers.

I was contemplating an in-depth look at the "hedge" in hedgewitch which inspired the above poem. A hedge is a separation and something that can be created in the mind as well as an actual physical divide. Yet, when all is said and done, when the hedge is removed, looked through, or made part of the overall landscape, it is now part of the One and not at all separate.

I was remembering the 20 years I spent walking near my home where I grew up in northern Indiana. My mom managed an author's home. The author was Gene Stratton Porter who was a naturalist. The 16 room log cabin sat in the woods along the shores of Sylvan Lake. The home and grounds were open to the public.

As you entered the property off the road, you either entered through the "main entrance" which was a narrow road passing between a hedge on either side or you took the "outside road" on the outer side of the hedge.

Now, this was NOT a well-manicured all one level "city hedge" like might first come to mind. It was a natural hedge lined and filled with small trees, plants, shrubs, a small little creek, and much alive with little scampers and noises from fluttering wings and crawly things.

On the outside of the hedge ran the "main road" that took people alongside the author's property then followed the woods to the lake. If you took the "main road, " you not only followed the outerhedge, but you could see the open expanses to one side, a field, and another woods before making a curve where began the homes of many who lived along Sylvan Lake.

I used to leave the log cabin and walk up the hill and through the woods at times being watched by owls, raccoons, too many squirrels and chipmunks to count, birds and butterflies as well as Indiana's national mosquito guard. I either passed through the woods and arrived to the "innerhedge" or decided to step into the real world just on the other side and took the "outerhedge."

I have always been one to remember that it is the little things in life that count. "Great and astounding moments" seem seldom and fleeting in life. I saw the change of seasons along this hedgerow, spring flowers of many varieties and the bright green leaves of new life. I also saw the thick green hedgerow full of leaves and unseen sounds of life moving and stirring about. I saw the hedgerow turn to hues of bright gold, orange, and red, and then I saw it bare and naked exposing itself to the world. It slowly became covered in white for which the soundproof created by the snow made for even more in depth conversations with self and nature. I saw this hedgerow change throughout my life. I saw it from the inside and I also walked its path along the outside. I felt at home there, one foot in my world and one foot in the other world.

As the hedgerow changed, so did I. Many parts of the hedgerow grew and some parts died. I remember stepping out of the woods and into the light as well as from the light back into the dark.

The changes and mysteries of the woods have always held a special meaning for me. While many must have mountains, raging rivers, or deep gulges to appreciate nature. I can sense it in its simplicity. I love the "big things" offered up by mother nature, just like I treasure the rare "big moments" of our lives, but I have always treasured the small ones. After all, that is what comes to mind most often when recalling a special time, place, or face.


Author's Location: Fort Wayne, Indiana
More Poems: HoosierHedgewitch has posted 19 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about HoosierHedgewitch - Click HERE
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