Despite what dictionaries would have us believe, this world is still mostly undefined.
John Koenig
The wind blows from the west, it’s cold penetrating my windbreaker. A small flotilla of pelicans drifts along the reservoir’s shore. I watch the sun quietly rise above the horizon announcing the new day’s arrival. There’s a serenity over the meadow, wrapping itself around me. I hear the song of one lone meadowlark and a couple of chattering magpies who are not lost for words. Yet, I am lost for words in this experience. Expressing how nature affects us seems impossible. Truth be it’s more about the gift of experiencing it, rather than words. Yet, the poet puts words to paper in their attempt to define what they experience and see. The artist also puts brush to canvas in their attempt using visual words. Makes me wonder if the meadowlarks and magpies are just as lost for words but simply doing the best they can. Maybe it’s all about the attempts by poets, artists, magpies and dictionaries to define what can’t be defined.