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	<title>Tarringo T. Vaughan &#187; Talcott Mountain</title>
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	<description>Mind Of a Creative Writer</description>
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		<title>This Simple Amazing (Song II)</title>
		<link>http://tarringovaughan.net/this-simple-amazing-song-ii/</link>
		<comments>http://tarringovaughan.net/this-simple-amazing-song-ii/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 04 Jul 2014 15:27:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>tarringovaughan</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Another Crack In the Sidewalk]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Talcott Mountain]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tarringo T. Vaughan]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I love the way the mind flows when it is zip lining through nature. Today I hike through the trees of Bloomfield’s side of Talcott Mountain— town incorporated 1835 &#8212; but these manifestations of green-life have been alive forever. I taste the smell of Oak Savannas and Chestnut Oaks and feel the appreciation of Robert [&#8230;]]]></description>
				<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://tarringovaughan.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Farmington_SW_Talcott.jpg"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-465" alt="Farmington_SW_Talcott" src="http://tarringovaughan.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Farmington_SW_Talcott-300x178.jpg" width="300" height="178" /></a>I love the way the mind flows when it is zip lining<br />
through nature. Today I hike through the trees of Bloomfield’s side<br />
of Talcott Mountain—<br />
town incorporated 1835 &#8212; but these manifestations of green-life<br />
have been alive forever. I taste the smell of Oak Savannas<br />
and Chestnut Oaks and feel the appreciation of Robert Frost’s<br />
rocky love affair with nature.</p>
<p>I didn’t want to write today, but this mountain<br />
is so full of life and early morning fascination. The sweat<br />
drips, but the air is free and smiles from strangers<br />
stimulate a thick humidity<br />
that is strangling the sky. Already the heat<br />
is vibrating the beat gunshots heard from a local<br />
shooting range and birds join in creating an orchestra<br />
of symmetry between historic decay and modern<br />
transformations. This is beautiful.</p>
<p>Even the bugs have their place<br />
as I swat them away from my face. I wonder how many<br />
moments have passed by these ferns<br />
as they watch observers rest to gather their breath and</p>
<p>I wonder how long these monuments of life<br />
have been here studying the exhaustion of human nature<br />
as we face the challenge of climbing<br />
this mountain. I didn’t want to write today</p>
<p>but Simsbury looks so beautiful from up here. Cameras<br />
flashing portraits of admiration. Children<br />
raising the blood pressure of cautious parents<br />
as they step too close to the ledge. On this 4th of July<br />
this is nature’s pledge<br />
of independence. This is where the ambition<br />
of wildlife roam free; this is where layers of basalt<br />
rock bask in the shade and dampness<br />
from far away Jurassic periods of time</p>
<p>and this is where a poet becomes a freelancer<br />
allowing nature to write verses of exploration.</p>
<p>I didn’t want to write today but observation<br />
has happened here again – right here</p>
<p>in this simple amazing.</p>
<p>© 2012<br />
Tarringo T Vaughan<br />
July 4th</p>
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