I shared a poem about The Natchez Trace Parkway here after visiting our daughter and son-in-law a couple of weeks ago. So today, I’m sharing about the famous Natchez Trace Parkway Bridge located in Williamson County, Tennessee. I’m including one of the photos I took, along with a gorgeous photo found on the National Park Service website during autumn. I’d love to visit during this season, but we’re home now so maybe next year!Of course, inspiration stirred some poetic thoughts, but I was in the mood for a challenge. So, I wrote a septet for the first time, and I hope I wrote it correctly. I could only read it so many times before the words began to blur. So, go easy on me, please. 😁
Anyway, bridges are always special, holding some kind of significance, so we were literally in awe. I hope you enjoy!
Arches curve with honor and elegance as we gaze in awe beneath sun of gold enticed by crimson autumn elements. A phenomenal vision to behold, motorcyclist’s freedom to unfold. Praised for design and historic facets – homelands of the Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Natchez.
Note: The rhyme scheme of a septet poem: A 7-line poem that is also known as a Rhyme Royal. Traditionally, Rhyme Royals have the following rhyming sequence: ababbcc.
I have returned to the land of the living, feeling much better from a week of Covid, about 90% so. I’m still taking it easy because Covid isn’t meant to be taken lightly. But I’m grateful to feel human again. I’m sharing a poem I wrote from one of our day trips with our daughter in Tennessee. We visited The Natchez Trace Bridge, which I will share photos and a piece of writing (in progress) a little later. But the poem today is about our drive along The Natchez Trace Parkway. A brief history is also included. I hope you enjoy the journey…
Photo taken at one of the stops on the parkway.
The Old Natchez Trace – pulled from the National Park Service
The Old Natchez Trace is one of the oldest transportation routes in North America; its human use dates back 10,000 years. The Old Trace consisted of a network of trails. For centuries, American Indians traveled and traded along this corridor, which traverses the homelands of the Natchez, Chickasaw, and Choctaw nations. The parkway is a 444-mile scenic drive that connects Nashville, Tennessee to Natchez, Mississippi. It’s a National Scenic Byway and All-American Road that’s open to motorists, hikers, and bikers year-round.
The Natchez Trace Parkway
The tires roll on the graceful parkway flanked with thicket of forest on both sides. My imagination turns whimsical where fairies, gnomes, and unicorns coexist within the density of the woodland. I exit my tenacious thoughts stirred from world events, and I revel in wide-open spaces and a vast valley that continues forever.
Hemlocks, maples, and pines dot small sections, and I delight in leaves skipping across the road, letting the grass catch them in soft embraces.
Our car leapfrogs with a lone cyclist, but you wouldn’t label our journey a race. It is a gift to savor where the clock does not personify a dictator.
My eyes watch butterflies ride the gentle breeze and crickets hop among the myriad of greenery. A smile finds its way, and I am lost in the wonder of every living creature and how each feels about our presence in their homeland.
Autumn ensures her presence to come with hints of golds and crimsons. I can almost smell the cinnamon. I can almost taste the pumpkin. What a delicious season to welcome!
When we reach the end, I direct my mindset to remain in such a magical state because not only am I in the best company of two loved ones, but my mind and soul feel exhilarated to release heavy cargo.
Instead, after leaving the heavenly national park, I find it meditative to observe a man with silver hair contained beneath a ball cap, sitting in his chair on his massive, mowed lawn, simply watching the grass grow.
Let us all immerse into the tranquility of stillness where time is nothing but irrelevant.
It was just another day at the county fair. Everything looked the same. Vendors gathered in their dedicated spots. The music venue sat under the white canopy by the pond that never changes location.
Henna ink has lightened – the faded hummingbird no longer reminds me of Mom, the wolf, incognito, but the memory shines like the glimmering pond…
Chatter and laughter echo around the zooming roller coasters, high-flying swings, and games that will eagerly take your dollar bills. Feathered spectators compete in the distance, but their melodies as faint as clouds drifting in the sky. Soft tacos satisfy our palates under a waterfall of sunshine as we observe parents walking by with their children wearing cotton candy smiles. Nothing brings more joy than cheering on the trio of piglets racing around the track. Their curly tails in view past the finish line!
What a delightful visual the lively grounds present from the revolving Ferris Wheel. I grab my cell for photos of him with the crowd’s energy buzzing in the background. He entertains me with these photo ops, knowing how much I love documenting precious moments. The ride pauses with our bucket at the top while others climb in below for their trip around the moon – our fingertips almost touch the vast blue. I am surprised by the vacancy of butterflies in my stomach.
It was just another day at the county fair. Everything looked the same, except… this day was time spent with my adult son – he would soon embark on a cross-country adventure. So, a Sunday of togetherness while enjoying the county fair landscape proved to be anything but the same, and was indeed different in the very best way – worth more than any materialistic possession I could ever own.
Thank you for visiting, and I wish you a wonderful week!❤️
My latest collection of poetry, touching on nature, love, and the mysteries of life that would make a great for any holiday! Click on the image for your copy. Thank you! 💚
Ariel’s Song by Dawn Pisturino is a beautiful and evocative collection of sixty-five poems – a collection that she lovingly dedicates to her daughter whose name is Ariel. The poems were written over a period of three decades touching on topics of love, family, children, death, nature, and the unique. Some rhyme and others are free in their styles from traditional sonnets that invited me to contemplate, to twisted limericks that made me laugh. I had many favorites, but I’m sharing snippets from a few, otherwise, this review would turn into a novel.
Many poems brought a sense of nostalgia. “November” evoked memories of when the season changed into golds, yellows, and reds, the air brought a chill, and my parents were still with us, enjoying family weekends at our cabin – everyone was young, and the future looked brighter than ever.
When November came, We sat around the kitchen table after dark, Telling chilling tales Of ghosts and other phantoms of the night, While wooden logs crackled and burned On the old stone hearth, And a cold wind wrapped its spectral arms Around the ancient wooden cottage…
Dawn writes of her late father in “Rapping” which stirred emotions of my mother-in-law who departed from our world over thirty years ago. Our daughter was born the same year that Diane passed, and one evening from downstairs, we heard footsteps on the carpeted staircase when our little girl was sound asleep in her crib. No one else was in the house with us. So, was it Diane stealing a glance at her first precious grandchild? We imagined it was, and so we believed.
As a nature lover with a grateful heart for each new day “When the Morning Comes” hit home and really should be hung on refrigerators:
When the morning comes, Sun will shine with a different light, Earth will glow in a brand-new way, Moon will dance to a gayer tune, Clouds of pain will float away. Broken hearts will beat again, Empty eyes will see new life, Throats will open up and sing, Hands will break the chains of strife…
“I Hate Snakes” made me laugh out loud, but I can relate so well to the sentiments. Dawn’s vivid imagery summoned me along to explore with her in ‘the jungle’ and her frightening experience with snakes reminded me of my first encounter with a spider, which eventually turned into arachnophobia, causing a never-ending turbulent relationship with the creepy-crawlies.
I HATE SNAKES
I pushed open the creaky door to look inside And froze in shock at what I saw: Slithering, crawling, scaly snakes Formed a moving carpet on the floor, Entwining in an intimate embrace, Lying together in a clump of shimmering bodies, Moving slowly and surely in the rotten shadows. We beat a hasty retreat And never visited our ‘jungle’ again. And that’s why, even today, I HATE SNAKES!
Dawn’s collection of lovely, witty, and occasionally dark poetry, offers a verse and a sense of familiarity for everyone. Highly recommended for all poetry enthusiasts!
Thank you for stopping by, and enjoy your weekend ahead! ❤️
My latest collection of poetry, touching on nature, love, and the mysteries of life that would make a great for any holiday! Click on the image for your copy. Thank you! 💚
I’ve done a lot of reflecting on the days building up to my recent 59th birthday (repeated a few times). 🙂 The quiet moments of contemplation were due to my health being challenged in the last year, but I’m not going to put you to sleep with pain-talk. You see, every new day is a precious gift, and birthdays are a chance to celebrate another year of life, so what better reason do we need?
There is no better reason, but I admit to feeling less than celebratory because of these changes my poor body has endured. These two health conditions are here to stay. I can’t bid them farewell, so I’m coming to terms with them, albeit a slow process. And even though things could be worse, it doesn’t negate what I’m experiencing – essentially, a new chapter in my book. Thus, my excitement to blow out the candles this go around felt contained instead of free. Are my feelings justified? Living with pain can be a downer. And I know that I’m at an age when health can change.
And yet, without a support circle to help keep my chin up, it would be much harder to focus on the good. And ‘the good’ is what keeps me moving forward! And moving forward is the best direction! I know there will be hiccups and hurdles but taking life ‘one day at a time’ never sounded so wise.
I chose to get an epidural which gave me the heebie-jeebies, but it finally kicked in, so I’m feeling better. Not 100%, but better enough to do some walking and smiling on my special day. The celebration spanned over four days of sipping Chardonnay, indulging in delicious food, and receiving wonderful gifts. I reveled in the joy of blowing out the candles on the carrot cake (my favorite)! Part of the fun was when my hubby, son, and I strolled around a local, charming beach town. My daughter and son-in-law celebrated from Tennessee! She and I recently had one of our iconic phone chats where even we broke our own record – we talked for 5 hours! It was awesome! Anyway, back to the beach, I was grateful for this pain-free day. It felt good to ‘feel good.’ 🙏
It was lovely to see a touch of spring. Flowers from hubby. YUM!!!
We enjoyed a sinfully delicious dinner that night, and afterwards, we took a drive that lead us to a beautiful spot for taking in the lights and the stunning moon. My hubby gets credit for the last shot.
And now a slight detour, if you missed my previous post about my interview on Spillwords Press, and you’d like to check it out, the link is: https://spillwords.com/spotlight-on-writers-lauren-scott/. It was an honor to be chosen to participate in their series: Spotlight on Writers. Feel free to give it a ❤️ or to leave a comment. I’d be grateful if you would! 🤗🙏
So, Cheers to celebrating life, one day at a time, and to relishing in the blessings and beautiful beginnings that birthdays offer! 🎉🙏
Thanks SO much for stopping by, and I truly wish you all good health. ~Lauren 💝
I walk through the front door, and with each step, a memory embraces me like a warm hug of sweet nostalgia, chatter and laughter echo in my mind leading me to the framed photos on the ivory walls that come to life – savory and sweet aromas whirled from kitchen to living room enticing palates, the television stayed on for background noise (when back then, streaming brought only thoughts of calm, flowing water) the vision of mom’s lovely smile, the music of dad’s chuckle, what I would give for another moment to be with them – the enchantment of seven grandchildren running around wearing huge smiles, their giggles following their footsteps – before the lawn was laid and array of blooms were planted and the concrete basketball court was poured, nothing but earth in the backyard – she’d relax on the chaise beside the new pool a million laps later, the turquoise still glimmers – fond memories of those chapters stay cozy in the walls in the cracks and crevices over the passing of time among the fleeting minutes… I step through the door, and it feels like home.
He had just entered the world his body tiny and delicate a bundle needing to be loved His skin darker than theirs but this made no difference Joy danced in their hearts when he became family
but with each passing birthday the skin color confused him, badgering his emotions like poison flowing through his veins causing him to act out in unforeseen ways
their circle was broken when he walked out the door
leaves on the trees changed their wardrobe, falling over and over and over again his silence shattered their world
until he walked through the door realization in his heart realization in his soul embracing them for the love, for the home they gave him
skin color irrelevant they were family reconnected
Just click on the image to purchase your copy, and if you enjoyed this collection, please consider sharing a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Reviews are like hugs. 💚
