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OOOOOOOOOOOhhhhh NNNoooooooooooooooo...

Yes, I'm late with the Sketch Notes this month. But that's the beauty of
having a page with no rules, although I did feel pangs of guilt creeping
through the everyday barrage of things to do.

These hot summer months are for gardening, vacationing, staying busy
around the house, and vegetating whenever possible to beat the heat. Since I
retired I thought I'd be able to vegetate a little more often. NOT!
But that's okay, I'm never bored, with plenty of things to think about and
keep me busy, along with worries about the Gulf and impending storms this
hurricane season, and gloom and doom on the tube.
But--look at the image above, at Lincoln's head shaking.
Is he upset and disgusted because of all of those things?
Is he shrugging and giving up?

No!

Lincoln is imploring us:

"Don't give up!
Do the best you can for yourself and for your country!
'Don't forget to respect your environment, both locally and worldwide.
Don't waste, and don't forget to recycle.
Join a good cause, for together we are strong.
Never forget the sacrifices your forefathers (and foremothers) made for
you. But don't just rest on their laurels.
For now has come the time you must all make sacrifices, too, for your
own children, teaching them educated action, respect, honor, the
importance of priorities, and how to continue to carry the beloved torch of
freedom far into this new century, pushing aside the darkness of ignorance
and greed and lighting the way into a beautiful new world for all people...
But most of all--never, never ever give up.
That would be the gravest sin of all--and our silent undoing."

(It's amazing what you can glean from one little Lincoln head on a flag, but
that's what I hear him saying. Really, I do.)

Life is calling me and I must respond with a summer sabbatical. I'll be back
with Sketch Notes this Fall, so keep us in your thoughts.
In the meantime, I wish you a safe, great summer with plenty of good times
with your family and friends.


Leann
Thanks for visiting Sketch Notes, the
seasonal and creative page of my
personal Website:

http://www.leannmarshall.com

I enjoy reading and writing (check out
my two fiction novels, The Starfish
People and The Rendering.)

I created Sketch Notes as a fun way to
express myself poetically, but I love to
feature other writer's work with a
link back to their own Websites.
Links to Sketch Notes archives are at
right.


My philosophy as quoted by Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe:
"One ought, every day at least, to hear a
little song, read a good poem, see a fine
picture, and, if it were possible, to speak
a few reasonable words.”

Don't forget to bookmark Sketch
Notes, tell your friends,  and visit
often!

If you have written something you
would like to see in a future edition of
Sketch Notes, email me.

Email
http://www.leannmarshall.com

The Passage
by Leann Marshall


Walking over bright green knoll knotted yellow with dandelions
Then down the other side,
Therein lies a dark and narrow passage through a stand of weeping oaks,
One I have seen but never tried

A light breeze blows, graceful boughs bow
Beckoning me to go where I have never been,
Shadows deepen, move beyond line of sight
As I breach the brink of light and dark and go within;

Cool leafy whisperings enfold and embolden me to go on
Down primordial path carpeted, spongy moss upon rich loam;
Fragile ferns rise unfurling, fronds uncurling,
Crystal breeze sends white-plumed seedlings swirling up, up, into an emerald dome

And down through mottled shards of light in turn, echoes
Call of a mockingbird unseen, still easily heard;
Singing sonnets from another time, an age of grace,
Things no one here dares hope retrace or e'er replace through thought or word

A bend in path, another still, I come upon a lovely rill
Water cold and clear spills over rounded stones
The blood and bones of Mother Earth—her worth, her dearth,
Amid effervescence, a sobering quiescence—both plaintive intones
To those who will hear her

From somewhere below a semi growls low, grinding, climbing, winding its way up from the city
Not so far away;
Stirs a dragonfly (symbol of long life, I muse—but exactly whose?) from its post upon a reed
and it Hovers nearby as if to say,
“I’ll lead if only you will follow,”
Then quick as a flash vanishes away deep into the hollow

Overhead, a rumble—soon winds come making dry leaves tumble, and then a light, warm rain;
It is only now I find release from pain, soul-healing peace, and yet I’m aimless like a lost lamb:
Shall I go, shall I remain? My heart is torn—I’m city born, I don’t belong, I’m not from here.
But everything tells me I am.