This poem was written a few years back when Judy and I were on a trip in and around Massachusetts. We visited Walden Pond and Concord—truly lovely rich spots. We wondered around in the Bronson Alcott's school/barn where folks like Emerson, Julia Ward Howe, and William James taught.
These Concord men and women
challenge me soul deep.
These self-determining, garden-tending,
child-begetting, paradigm-upsetting,
idea-formulating, barn-schooling.
wood-chopping philosophers--
searchers for the Oversoul in their own backyards.
These talkers, endless explorers, ever vergent.
These walkers in the woods.
These self-reliant connoisseurs and teachers.
These hardy loners, poets, novel writers.
These coffee chatting neighbors.
These book devourers, book producers.
These transcenders.
These endlessly speaking
men and women,
genteel in their dress,
wildly improper in their minds.
These desirers of greatness, certain
of their right to be great.
These influencers; these builders
of schools and systems,
of ideas and houses and cabins.
These Concord men and women
challenge me soul deep.
—amk (2006)
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