Chasing Silence And Solitude Poem by Curtis Johnson

It was early autumn on a solemn made-in-heaven afternoon, across the gravel road through a muddy field up the hill alonga narrow trail that leads to a creek not far from a bayou calledCassidy where the wild ferns grow* and where I was baptizedat the age of 10.My dog would occasionally run upon a rabbit that always presented a chasing adventure that never ended with a catch of the rabbit that must have found his greatestamusement each time he was pursued by my best friend Jackwho also seemed to have gotten more pleasure in his rabbit chase than anything we ever did together, even inclusive of sitting quietly by the bayou for hours as our world of silenceand solitude was passed over by the world of noise and work.

071320cj Inspiration: While I was sleeping, I kept hearing, "Where the wild fern grows".