To Harness a Vision

By Blue Ackerman

Hills like golden velvet
Rise rhythmically
from the wind-rippled river below

Stiff in architectural formality
Maryhill stands
the color of sun-bleached wheat

I’ve come here again
Empty
Seeking inspiration in Loie Fuller
Perhaps to “harness” a vision as well

Finding the vein of ancient invisible source
Like a door that opens to those who knock

Might she have danced ‘round in the summer sun?
Alone and free

I follow a trail of peacock feathers
Stooping to collect them as I walk

Choosing an old sprawling tree
I sit and consider my surroundings
Taking out my journal, pen
and a single chicken strip from Linda’s Diner

A beautiful jewel-feathered visitor
comes to pose quickly for pictures
and share in my snack
“All gone”
doesn’t seem to be part of his vocabulary
He clicks aggressively for more

In a place of contrasts
the muse now quickly becomes the pest

so I walk instead
to a bench on the east bluff
A meadowlark song glides along the steady warm breeze
while a lizard suns herself on a lichen-covered boulder
burped there by some ancient volcano

A tiny white butterfly searches among the gnarled sage
for the last of summer’s sweetness

At a time when women were bound by corsets and customs
Loie was like the freeform flowing essence of the butterfly
Unafraid to unfurl and flutter her silk wings
Beckoning others to “fly”

I desire to unbind
my cocoon of fear

Transform like a butterfly

and not be afraid to dream

A peacock-guarded palace
Into a barren place