Scaffolding By Seamus Heaney

Nourishment

A Mockery

windows open season. waking up to birdsong season. smelling the dewy grass season. twirling in a long skirt season. life feels worth living again season. taking all of my meals outside of possible season. reasoning how far I can get by bike ride and pedaling out anyway season.

magnet poetry always does good in curing writers block.

How to create an atmosphere: Forest

Sight

tall trees with thick canopies of leaves

alternating light coming in through the moving leafs of the trees

ground covered with a mix of grass, ferns, and fallen leaves

wildflowers adding splashes of colour

animals like deer, boars, squirrels, birds

insects like butterflies and bees add movement and life to the scene

Hearing

the air is filled with the melodious songs of birds

gentle rustling of leaves as the wind moves through the trees

constant hum and buzz of insects

the soft crunch of leaves, twigs, and soil while walking through the forest

Touch

the spongy feel and the soft coolness of moss

the rough texture of tree bark

the cooler temperature in the forest

with a gentle breeze that can be felt on your skin

Smell

the smell of fresh grass

the rich, earthy smell of soil and decaying leaves

the scent of fresh leaves, pine needles, and blooming flowers

the smell of the clean, slightly damp scent of water and wet earth from a nearby stream or pond

Taste

the clean taste of fresh air

the taste of sweet and tangy wildberries

the taste of self-picked mushrooms

the taste of edible wildflowers

the taste of a variety of nuts

the taste of wild greens

More: How to create an atmosphere

Framed

Fresh Laundry

Spring waits in my closet,

A cool-weather jacket at the ready

Washed fresh with the winter rains

Dried in the chilled breeze.

I slide off my woolen coat of winter and

Set it to the side for the summer's dreams.

My last chance for sweaters has passed,

And now is the time of the budding.

I take the hanger and slide the season

Off its mooring. The linen is delicate from

Years of washes, from changes in climate,

From the long wait and the ecstatic fever.

I sheath my arms in spring's sleeves

Its shivery fabric pricking my heat-adapted skin.

The delight of a comfortable afternoon and cool

Night will never get old.