On the way to the airport in Madison, I am bidding my Wisconsin adventure adieu – but not before receiving the last few lines I needed to complete this new poem:

Rare glimpses
sky shy peeks
muted beneath
dull grey clouds
o’r barren scapes

Rusted trappings
comfortably home 
amongst the golds
coppers ‘n’ bronzes 
hazy with wet air

Farm houses cast 
complete with silos
randomly checkered 
among still green hills
covered in naked trees

Fall is lingering
yet not yet winter
everything feels dim
muffled beneath snow
not melting faster

When the sun says ‘hey’
everyone takes note
grateful for the oddly
briefest moments of
bright shining splendor 

Wisconsin in November
an atypical adventure
delightfully enchanting
not because it trys to be
wholly uncomplicated

Sprawling country canvas 
sprinkled with hokey charm
this temporarily muted palate 
exaggerating delicate beauty
magnifying the simply peaceful 

I’ve been enjoying a local’s tour of Wisconsin these past few days and did a bit more sight seeing today. Got to see Cave of the Mounds.

Love this!

It’s a closed cave system that was discovered when the property owners were blasting to mine limestone. It contains no habitats or creatures, only ever-evolving geological formations:

Stalagmites “might reach the ceiling someday”
Stalactites “hold tight to the ceiling”
Columns are formed when both types of cave formations combine into one pillar that reaches from floor to ceiling
We’re cute…
Caves are so cool…
A sink hole as seen from underground (they’ve dug into it to check for more cave beyond it)
Fossils, each over 3 feet long
Some of Nature’s endless artwork…
So much happening in this picture
Calcite, manganese and iron causing coloration in the rock formation
Stalagtites are solid all the way through and have rings like trees
“Soda straws” are the start of stalagmite formations – so named for their hollow center
“Cave Brocolli” just above a sunk-pump maintained waterline
Same year I was born lol (pretty good year)!

Walking an unpopular path
People will tell you you’re lost
They caution you against their fears
They tell you what cannot be done

Walking the path of your soul
Deep into dark corners and cold
Sometimes the way feels awful lonely
Othertimes the shadows prove friendly

Walking one step before next
Taking your precious time back
Facing the monsters that live in inside
Embracing all your brokenheartedness

Walking on, you don’t turn away
Except to laugh into the twirling abyss
Surprises lay ahead, blessings to be had
Gifts sprinkled throughout for your bliss

Walking an unpopular path
Walking the path of your soul
It my not be crowded and it may not be lit –
but walk on Truth warriors of ancient and old

Little cottage at the fork (Bristol, UK, October 2018)

Written one year ago after visiting the Blarney Castle in Ireland on an absolutely enchanted and “impossible” European trip