April 13, Napowrimo 2026. Today we are to try our hand at writing our own poem about a remembered, cherished landscape. It could be our grandmother’s backyard (did that in Napowrimo 2025), our schoolyard basketball court (didn’t have one of those), or a tiny strip of woods near the railroad tracks (possible). At some point in the poem we should/could include language or phrasing that would be unusual in normal, spoken speech – like a rhyme, or syntax that feels old-fashioned or high-toned.
I felt a connection with and inspiration from the prompt’s reference to and review of John Berryman’s poem “Footing Our Cabin’s Lawn, Before the Wood” and have tried to use that in my work here.
I took myself back to the first time I visited another country, the lasting impact it had on me and the life-long-love I have of being in Wales.
Tender was that summer’s rising sap of my barely flowing manhood,
Chest mounds merely emerging; giant Snowdon at my back.
Before me, the huge Atlantic heaved through St George’s Channel,
Great throbbing slate waves laying punch after punch on Cambrian granite stacks.
My transfixed blue greenhorn eyes fixated by this seascape scene,
Sea-chilled bare feet planted unfirmly in the foam’s rolling shoulders,
Pebbles rocking and rolling, grunting and shunting up and down
The beach where sea glass jewels winked kindly among the salted boulders.
Who am I to challenge this mammoth home to immense Neptune?
The thought, audacious, comparing myself to Poseidon’s vast domain!
My tiny insignificance exposed for all fish and bird and man to see.
No comprehension held then, how to this day, that same awe remains.
To stand on the edge of your own known world,
To breathe in the air that has sailed a globe-wide sea,
To let your mind walk the wind and wander in wonder, that
Is a great moment to remember, and an even greater place to be.
Missives & Musings 