Old barn between Kalispell and White Fish, Montana by Jan Risher
How many of us have wanderlust? After pandemic shut downs have kept us homebound with theaters, museums, and art galleries closed, many of us have suffered from the strong desire to go somewhere else. My friend, journalist Jan Risher, hit the road a few weeks ago with her husband. Finding travel somewhat doable again, she posted picture after picture of our amazing country.
I was drawn in by her pictures of Montana. We were there only a few summers ago and enjoyed a train ride from Seattle to White Fish. To see more of Jan’s pictures, follow her on Instagram. To read her article about her trip, click The Advocate.
If the spirit moves, write a small poem in the comments. Please encourage other writers with kind comments. I’m sorry this post is late today. I discovered that I can access my blog on my school computer, but I can’t edit or publish the post.
Here where land
Margaret Simon, draft
reaches up to sky
with a hand on the heart
of America…
We see
sacred space.
Reflections on the Teche 
What a gorgeous photo. I love it! And, the idea of land having a hand over heart, that’s good.
Someday
You will be as
sky and wind
and soil again.
shhhh shhhh
It’s waiting time
I can hear that sound in the photo. Shh. Waiting time is sometimes hard to accept.
It IS a gorgeous photo, Linda. Your poem couches a haunting truth, that all things pass, within the comforting sound a mother makes to a child … I wonder at the speaker. Mother Earth? The Creator? And I cannot help smiling because took I the same photo and wrote about enduring!
Linda, I love your voice. It sounds nurturing like a mother’s voice, telling the barn what it will be and then especially in “shhhh shhhh.” Reading your poem aloud I heard the sounds of all the /s/ alliteration, which make your poem sound like a beautiful lullaby.
Margaret, how I love your imagery of the barn as a hand on the heart of America and the land reaching up to the sky – yes, the sacred spaces remain. This photo pulled at me – it does beseech one to write a poem. So, I did. It’s a bit long so I will only post the final stanza here and the full version on the Round-Up with credit to you and your friend Jan. Thank you for this inspiration!
Old red barn
vignette of yesterday
rustic testimony never reduced
—I will not think of you
as desolate
vignette of yesterday. Gosh, I was brought up on those…and I’m thankful now for a love of history. Thank goodness the old things still matter to some.
I grew up on old stories, too and count it as one of my life’s greatest gifts. The old things have great value.
Fran, I love how your voice is talking to the barn saying it’s “testimony” will never be without value or meaning. How you will not think of it as abandoned or alone because of it’s importance. “Vignette of yesterday” is beautiful and heartfelt.
[…] special thanks to Margaret Simon for the prompt in “This Photo Wants to be a Poem,” her journalist friend Jan Risher for sharing the photo of the old barn, and to Tabatha […]
Margaret, I love “Here where land/reaches up to sky.” The image drew me in and seems perfect for Montana. “With a hand on the heart/of America” is powerful. “We see/sacred space” left me speechless. Your poem is moving and struck a chord in me. Thank you.
I also thank you for sharing a great photo prompt. I grew up in the country loving horses and old barns have always intrigued me. I could write many poems from this photo. However, Montana always makes me think of mustangs and those mustangs that I have read about and always wanted to see wouldn’t leave my mind.
I long to hear
mustangs gallop
against blue sky,
their manes flying
like Pegasus’s wings,
(feel Native American
spirits, ride them bareback.)
I put the last two lines in parentheses because I wasn’t sure if they fit with the rhythm. I tried taking out “them” for less words, but it seems like it’s needed.
Beautiful images, Gail – love how the barn and location spoke “horses” to you. I like the phrasing of mustangs galloping “against blue sky” and the mythological connection to Pegasus – for there’s just something legendary to a running horse. l think this links well to the Native American spirits riding them bareback in this place. The spiritual and the earthiness swirl around this scene, for sure – and memory, in your longing.
Fran, thank you. I agree that horses galloping is legendary. I’m happy you felt the mythological and spiritual connections. Also thank you thinking the Native American part links well in the poem. It felt so natural to include.