Writing life

Hi everyone,

People ask where we find ideas. They ask how long it takes to write a book.

Purchasing Small Secrets

I followed the path along the river, taking me further
from the cabin where my parents sat with their hosts,
playing cards and enjoying a rare visit.

I carried a stick in case I found a snake to catch,
to pin down behind its neck and pick up, its body
writhing around my arm while I examined it.

My other hand held my net, almost another arm in summer.
Muddy spots beside water drew swallowtails and I
could never have too many. If I caught one, I would
pinch its thorax to put it to sleep, fold its wings,
and slip it into the triangular envelop I’d fashioned
from sheets of journal paper and stuck in my shirt pocket.

Later, I sat looking down at the dark-watered Little Niangua,
watched as crows stalked the bank, pirates after treasure.
A muskrat left small ripples along the far shore,
a shadow under leaning trees.

One day I would write poems about this moment.
Today I was content being a boy on a riverbank,
purchasing small secrets with my silence.

(c) 2025 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved