Finding Inspiration

Inspiration is a funny thing. Sometimes it's fleeting, coming at 3 am when you're trying to sleep (just me?), and sometimes it's obvious and tangible, making it possible for you to go back to that space again and again. If you live or have spent time in Western Massachusetts, then you know that it's one of those places that embodies inspiration. For centuries, artists have been enamored with our little corner of the world, writing songs about the Connecticut River and painting masterpieces of the vivid landscapes.

And who can blame them? This week, we did a trial run of our upcoming Seven Sisters Traverse (because why not?) and much like many artists before him, Jacob, one of our team members, felt moved by the scenery and the experience to write a poem that he was generous enough to share with us.

I hope that both Jacob and Western Mass inspire you to get outside, slow down a bit, and take in the beauty that we can sometimes forget to appreciate.

Enjoy the poem!

The Seven Sisters

I met Seven Sisters on the Trail Wild.

They had seven stories to tell awhile, and shared seven morsels to excite my soul.

Sister One boasted blooming mountain laurels by her side, their blossoms smelling of honey, offering a pungency abounding. She gave a spoonful of nectar to me, and my spirit lifted in stride. The Trail Wild guided me to this sanctuary.

Sister Two climbed to a great height. The rosebud clambered on her Trapp Rock and the fragrance teased my awareness to awaken. She laid plain The Valley vista, and I gasped at the wonder. Then, given the smallest of delicacies, she tantalized me into a burst of sensation I shall not forget. The Trail Wild captured the memory in time.

Sister Three was nestled between her brethren, offering a peaceful pause of place. The slopes at her front and back protected her winding col, and a powerful breeze of scent arose from the valley below. She gave me a token of spicy sweetness. I took my boots and socks off and felt my feet firmly planted onto the depths of the abyssal bedrock, and the Trail Wild froze me to the spot.

Sister Four stood close to the bend in the path. She turned my head around and sprinkled me with hot and sultry stuffs. A sirocco wave penetrated my core, and with a splash of water, all of my vigor was restored. The Trail Wild led me to scrabble through the onward way.

Sister Five was the tallest of all. She showed her greatness in her shear face, and implored the winged creatures to soar. Amidst the trials of rising to her height, a billowing wind blew me aloft, and all around was the swaying and rustling of her trees. The treats she shared made me tingle, entranced. The Trail Wild has my heart.

Sister Six plied vistas afar. With a view of the winding waters of the Great River and the rising ridgeline of far distant peaks, I paused in repose and smelled and tasted all she would grant to me from her hold. Though I wanted to stay and play, the Trail Wild drew me inexorably forward.

Sister Seven held fast to the greatness of her kin, and shared a feast of tender delights galore that were plump, swollen and flush with ripeness. As there was a hint of wanting more, she asked me to tarry, and bade me to make a wish.

I told her my wish was true, to be here with all of my senses alive, with travails and wanderings afoot, that I shall carry all of the Sisters with me in my waking dream.

I met Seven Sisters on the Trail Wild.

Jacob C Lindeman 08 June 2021