A Quiet Place

“Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.” Plutarch

A friend and I recently agreed the creative life is worth the effort. He offered…“Blessing or curse? Sometimes I think I’d rather just be rocking in a rowboat not catching any fish, just rocking. But then the flash of wonder hits me. I’m on the case and thinking this is the greatest gift ever!” 

That friend is poet, musician, and fellow Rutland, Vermont native, James Mee.

From A Quiet Place

A poem by James Mee

The river wind is whispering

to this pasture land.

On days like these

she’ll spin her yarns

for those that understand.

Field birds chitter to stone fences.

As I rest upon hay bales.

The sky stands guard

as I cloud dream

and listen to her tales.

As rays of light calm rustling leaves

I hear a subtle trace.

A little breath

expressing life

on days of gentle grace.

Nature’s stories old as time

have me in their embrace.

And share such wonder

along this path

from a quiet place.

Copyright 1995, 2020 James Mee

Grandpa’s Knob, Vermont