a poem a day in the month of may
I think valleys sometimes get a bad press -
the lows, the troughs
the vale of tears
the valley of the shadow of death
But what of the hidden valley
the gentle, green slopes
the rippling river
the breeze in the branches
the delicate daisies?
What of the peaceful haven of rest
where I can be still and reflect
take time to think
and be renewed?
in a valley is that
after you've hit the
bottom you still have
to climb your way back out.
This one is important to me because of the story that preceded it this day. It's not that exceptional, but it's significant. Especially savoring each day left now :)
You say I’m in the valley,
Like it’s a bad thing,
A hard place.
You’re right, maybe I am in the valley,
But I know it as beauty,
A refreshing place.
You know, in fact,
I celebrate this valley, because it means
I’ve started my journey.
It means I’ve put in my time and
Put down my feet, all in the
Right places to bring me
I look around me in this valley,
At the birds twinkling in the pines,
At the crisp snap of the sunlight
On the lake a few steps away,
And I see nothing but a paradise,
A campground of your “miscreants” and “outcasts,”
Deviously cooking dinner on the fire,
Laughing out the schemes of our agenda
Because if we didn’t put on this facade,
Didn’t seem like
You’d know, and we can’t have that.
Blessedly, on this warm sunny day,
I can’t hold anything against you.
I can’t, and I wouldn’t want to,
My pack would be too heavy.
I’m carrying only the essentials.
I ain’t got nothin’ but
Blue skies, dry feet
Some plant-based meal bar Ten gave me
A box of matches
And an award-winning attitude.
I’ve done this before
Or something like it
And I know all that’s truly real out here
Is how many steps I believe I’ll take,
How many freeze-dried meals I’m willing to scarf down,
And how much I savor every moment,
Squeeze out each drop of joy,
Throw myself to gratitude,
Whether that’s on the cliff face
Or in the valley.
When you’re staring down a bear,
Or on the wrong end of an empty water tank,
A valley’s exceptionally not so bad.
I had to walk through a few valleys; though none have been alike,
The darkest one eventually led to the most sunlight,
Finally, The rocky terrain surrendered into smooth sand
The river became the ocean and I was able to get to the land.
And although I will never ever ever go back,
I'm glad that that valley led me to this path.
A tectonic shift
has hollowed me
I survey the rift
Ripped by the blow
Steep walls protect me
mountains to my valley low
My body grieves
what was lost
the valley my reprieve
Rest and see what is found
deep below the surface
the valley is fertile ground
i was taught to fear the valley;
it was, supposedly, dark and
now i know valleys are
teeming with life, verdant and
the mountains are treacherous;
awesome from afar,
scary up close.
i prefer a valley view of mountains
over a mountain top view of valleys
where the air is certain.
Down in the Valley
If you find yourself down in the valley,
With the mountain peaks all around,
Don't be so quick to start climbing those hills,
For there's beauty to be found.
Even down in the low lying valley,
You descend to during those days.
There are fields and flowers and rocks and streams
To discover beneath the haze.
Learn to love your time in the valley,
For when later you reach the peaks.
You'll look back at your time though low that it was,
And remember the quiet and peace.
Karri Temple Brackett
May 25, 2023
“Beautiful daughter of the stars,”
seems to fit this rolling land.
The roll of the hills and rivers flowing
like the syllables in your name, Shenandoah.
It was here in this wide valley where I became me,
hiker of hills and mountains,
paddler of rivers, cyclist of up and down.
seeking a poem and a song around every bend.
Our society seems to find valleys as places to avoid,
low places of mind, body and spirit.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”
Though, I have found death in every corner,
mountaintops and beyond,
and evil in every city and town,
and it has made me fearful.
Lo, it is not the valleys to be feared…
Here, in this valley rimmed by misty mountains,
carved elegantly from centuries of collisions,
high rising peaks chiseled and worn by time.
here I have wandered in earth’s loving masterpiece.
Elegant sculptor, divine artist, universe centered symphony,
this gentle valley leads me besides its living waters.
turning me inward so I can see outward,
beauty unbounded in this letter from home.
I live in a valley
one of grapes & wine.
A destination for many
which is totally fine.
Preferring the surrounding hills
that make this a valley.
I hike out in nature
this is more up my alley.
Don’t get me wrong
I love all the vineyards.
But give me the wilderness
flora and fauna are my kindreds.
there is a sweet spot
halfway between up and down
where noise from above
gives way to descent
into the valley and
the sound of water
flowing over pebble
has not yet
your cochlear nerve
heed the call
I wonder if valleys can also be resting places? Times to nourish and replenish before the challenging work of climbing? A base camp for life, if you will. Time to gather supplies and plan our journey ahead. 🏔️
I sit here
in the valley
I have been here
for so long
searching the horizon
for a way to the top
the way out
exhausted from the
I sigh deeply
close my eyes
it is then that
I hear it
the sounds of the valley
I listen longer
not the mechanical sounds
of vehicles or machines
the organized and chaotic
sounds of human discussion
passionate oratory and
the noise of politics
these sounds feel pure
unencumbered by agenda
or consuming ideology
signal life for
I open my eyes
and see it all
what my focus
blinded me to
life in the valley
that sustains me
that protects me
that heals me
is inspiring me
and that will show
the path that
I must journey
to reach the top
of the valley
the source of life
climb of alone.
that you out of alone.
cannot climb out of alone.
Tranquil or frantic,
All things come down the mountain.
Watch out when it rains.
The red-tailed hawk
glides through the air
over the valley
She makes flying
Unlike the smaller birds
who strive to fly,
flapping their little wings
the hawk seems
to float on the air
without bending a wing.
she finds a thermal of air
and begins her ascent.
Round and round she goes.
Not stuck on repeat
in the same cycle,
she instead goes
higher and higher
as she circles.
She has learned
to the warm air
and go with the flow
she finds herself in.
From up there,
she has such
And she’s not striving.
over the valley.
Just right timing for these words 🙏 Moving ahead holding this paradox.