{"id":7220,"date":"2014-09-22T22:28:29","date_gmt":"2014-09-22T22:28:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/?p=7220"},"modified":"2014-09-22T22:28:29","modified_gmt":"2014-09-22T22:28:29","slug":"falling","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/2014\/09\/falling\/","title":{"rendered":"Falling"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Today at 9:29 pm is the Autumnal Equinox<\/strong> so I thought I’d share my poem. I ‘ve had\u00a0 a long dry spell; something like 15 rejections in the past two weeks so I figure I’ll publish one of my own poems here. Hope your writing is going well, that your dry spell is short, and that autumn is kind to you.<\/p>\n

Peace, love, and solace<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Autumnal Equinox<\/strong><\/p>\n

On a Saturday, wind blowing, sun in a wide sky,
\nthis family of four goes to the woods, or what
\npasses for them around here. We park, walk past
\na picnic: one guy at the barbecue, another<\/p>\n

serenades with guitar, a third bunches bare legs
\nunder the table. Today\u2019s a chilling tweak
\nto end a week of Indian summer. At the lake\u2019s
\nfar side, past the trench where water drains from the toll road,<\/p>\n

at a smooth spot without weeds, we get the tackle,
\nset up the pole, and thread the line. The other two
\nstay to fish while my older son and I hike through
\novergrowth and fallen trees, to a prickly patch<\/p>\n

of perpetual gloaming. We pick through trash–
\nwrappers, empty Vienna sausage cans,
\nsurvivalist fare among the prairie grasses.
\nWe scrape lichen with sticks, kick at things,<\/p>\n

spot deer a meadow away, count two,
\nsee the male\u2019s ears prick as we edge closer,
\nhalf-believing we can sneak but there\u2019s
\nno silent crossing this crunchy floor. They\u2019re off,<\/p>\n

with a dainty hop, winking their tails.
\nFurther on, we almost stumble on a crude
\narrangement of fallen limbs, veed for enclosure.
\nAn olive drab blanket lies amid grass. Near a heap<\/p>\n

of bottles and cans, something pale protrudes
\nbut we know not to pick through this site.
\nAt the fishing spot, the boys trade places
\nand the younger comes exploring, investigates<\/p>\n

tulgey mushrooms, copper against dead wood.
\nWe cannot spot deer but find where they had lain,
\nthe tall grass smoothed like parted hair. Two men walk
\ndown a hummock of land toward the road.<\/p>\n

I wonder if they\u2019ve come for sex. Will we stumble
\non them like deer exposed on the highway?
\nAssembled, we pack up, go through the weeds.
\nThe boys, our guides, use stick machetes to clear the way,<\/p>\n

chide us when we overtake them, \u201cWe\u2019re the leaders,
\nwe\u2019re the leaders.\u201d Deer are seen again. We reach where they\u2019ve
\nbeen, smell the dusky scent. The older one says, \u201cYeah, it smells
\nlike Band-aids,\u201d and we all laugh. It\u2019s just that way.<\/p>\n

\u00a9 Ellen Wade Beals, 2014<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Today at 9:29 pm is the Autumnal Equinox so I thought I’d share my poem. I ‘ve had\u00a0 a long dry spell; something like 15 rejections in the past two weeks so I figure I’ll publish one of my own poems here. Hope your writing is going well, that your dry spell is short, and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[2268,12,39,13,7,16,32],"class_list":{"0":"post-7220","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-uncategorized","7":"tag-autumnal-equinox","8":"tag-ellen-wade-beals","9":"tag-photography","10":"tag-poetry","11":"tag-solace","12":"tag-solace-in-so-many-words","13":"tag-weighed-words","14":"entry","15":"has-post-thumbnail"},"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7220","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7220"}],"version-history":[{"count":21,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7220\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7242,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7220\/revisions\/7242"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7220"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7220"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/solaceinabook.com\/site\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7220"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}