somewhere south of bemidji, mn


it seems to me i'd like to go
where bells ne'er ring or whistles blow;
where clocks ne'er strike and gongs ne'er sound,
but where there's stillness all around.

 not real still stillness - just the trees'
low whisperings or the croon of bees;
the drowsy tinkling of the rill,
or twilight song of whippoorwill.

 'twould be a joy could i behold
the dappled fields of green and gold,
or in the cool, sweet clover lie
and watch the cloud-ships drifting by.

 i'd like to fid some quaint old boat,
and find its oars, and with it float
along the lazy, limpid stream
where water-liles drowse and dream.

 sometimes it seems to me i must 
just quit the city's din and dust,
for fields of green and skies of blue
and, say! how does it seem to you?
-Nixon Waterman.
This poem has been speaking to me. and seems to fit my novel I'm working on. I picked up a book called "best loved poems" at a garage sale some month-or-so ago. It's an old worn-down book with yellowing pages that are tattered at their corners and smell like history. I've found it to be enthralling, enchanting, yet relaxing and soothing. I may not be a poet, but I do love the written word when it ebbs and flows so beautifully.

I hope you find the solace and quiet from the noise of the city streets.