22 June 2005

Railroad Fields

So, I decided to walk to work early yesterday. This was my downfall. I wanted to write more, but I always get distracted by the other marvelous sites along my way: a house with multicolored awnings, a well-tended garden, a run-down yard with an acre-plus worth of potential. I had little time for writing, so I took snapshots of the field paralleling the railroad tracks and recorded some sappy poem. Here is the original version, minus six ending lines, which I removed for sheer distaste:

The Color of Ashland in Late Spring

These are the fields of purple and yellow
These are the trails I walk on my way to work
These are the trails of inspiration
The are the yellows and purples of spring
late spring
early summer
Summer into which
what will happen?
What will happen to this
this field of yellow and purple?
What colors will this field turn?
What color?
What color will yellow to dull brown
of dying grass and leaves?
Will they?
Will they become the yellow of tomorrow?

—Kyle Stich, 21 June 2005


Robert Casserly said...

Right on, it's hard to work when you live in paradise. But why should it be otherwise?

BTW, just finshed Dharma Bums... excellent read, thank you for the tip. Now for the fun part... my friend Jeani promised to tell me the REAL story about Kerouac and and Snyder after I finshed the book, she knew them both.

Kyle Stich said...

Oh yes, the sweet pleasures of tortuous work environments.

I thought you'd enjoy The Dharma Bums, lots of Nature and what-not. You'll have to retell the tales of Jack.