Excerpt from Land, Weather, Seasons, Insects: An Archetypal View, by Dennis L. Merritt
Charlie and Suzi and I are happy to walk with our friends at Medfield State Hospital – into the fresh meadow (a trail is mowed) and into the woods and by the river romping along and talking and talking about mothering and traveling and writing and politics and change. I find the feather under my foot: I cannot distinguish the bird who lost it. My friend picks it up, she says it’s the perfect feather for my hat, and tucks it into the leather band of my Stetson. All the wildflowers of the fields greet us. All day I work on my writing. First, the poem I am re-shaping from the essay, “A Ritual for Eggs.” Slow, slow going, chiseling it down. And wrestling with doubt. What am I doing and why am I doing it and does it matter and is it worth doing? I unload the dishwasher, load it back up. I unpack my suitcase from Martha’s Vineyard. All the while, deciding, deciding. And coming to: yes. Because I might get something very precious from this that I need to know. In fact, I’m sure of that. Then, I work on my Poetry and Art presentation for Saturday, sorting my images and poems, choosing and ordering and reflecting on what I will share and how I will share it. I’m so excited to share this experience with my friend Jenny Grassl, who is such a fine poet and artist. And the more I work on this, the more excited I get about what our program will create as an experience, not just for us, but for anyone who comes. Something exciting happens: we get a message, texted from the bride-to-be and groom-to-be with a picture. They have finished the application for their marriage license! And who knows what will happen next, and when? Their wedding is a sprint of spontaneity. And we are in the excitement of the unknown.