Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT September 12th 2022

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem Wildflowers by H.E. Fisher, posted below. 

Our prompt was:  When I was little….

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday September 16th at 12 pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.

Wildflowers by H.E. Fisher

ⓒ Free Lines Press, 2022.

6 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT September 12th 2022

  1. Elizabeth

    When I was little
    Life was about play,
    Hardly any responsibility,
    No real knowledge of current events,
    A protective layer of innocence surrounded me.
    Why then was I so eager to grow up?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. When I was little
    Planes flew overhead with great ferocity
    But later I gazed at clouds from the ponds bank
    Death reports were announced nightly
    But shifting shadows of the forest gave solace
    Everything was breaking open and apart
    But I was the littlest
    Watching, listening, waiting

    Liked by 1 person

  3. When I was little~~~
    the world around me loomed large and wondrous
    the air smelled of wildflowers
    and the woodland creatures cautiously moved about me chattering and singing their thoughts to me
    the air was fresh, allowing me to breathe deeply to take in this treasure
    there were mysteries of life to explore at every turn
    my imagination ran away and took me on spectacular adventures

    the world now is crowded, dirty, polluted
    I search to find open ground where I can explore in partnership with Mother Nature
    now, plants and trees compete to find small, precious spaces to exist

    where have we gone wrong?
    our ignorance and disregard may prove to be our undoing
    and so my childhood memories light up the dark corners


  4. al3793

    When I was little, I’d give anything to wander along the banks of Foxwood Pond with my brothers busily plying its waters for frogs and turtles, snakes and fish.

    And I’d wait for the three o’clock sun to cast it’s spell on the pond’s west side, calling the fish to the feast, to snack, caution to the late afternoon breeze, on any angle of my fishing line.

    And when the sun would slip behind the trees to the southwest of the pond and the gorging would stop we would hear the foghorn of the Brake Shoe plant announcing it was time to go home. The peepers and the crickets would start their song, and the mosquitos would buzz in my ear, and SLAP, the buzzing would give way to ringing, then silence.

    The moon would cast its glow on the water, the dandelions and Queen Anne’s Lace, and the fire flies would start their sparkling dance along the branches of the tree, the Christmas trees of summer.

    All that light would coalesce and if I watched very carefully, I could just make out the slightest hue of green.



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