by Meg Hutchinson
After the rain the reservoir is high
Where the island used to be
Now only the black stalks of the trees
Rising straight from the water
All week when the dog and I get to this certain bend in the trail
We stop to watch the geese
There are two of them, loud and peculiar
Why do they lean their heads back this way and cry?
Why do they swim tight circles through the trees?
Today I realize,
They have lost their nest.
Musical Contribution: “Yea Tho We Walk”
In Their Own Words
I wrote this song after flying in over the prisons at Eppley Airfield in Omaha, Nebraska. The plane was so low that I could clearly see the inmates out in the courtyard. I thought about how strange it must be for them to hear flights taking off over them all day long, to be haunted by that freedom. The Midwest has such a desolate beauty in the winter. Flying over that farmland I kept thinking of the bravery of the human spirit.
Meg Hutchinson grew up in a small town in the Berkshire hills of Western Massachusetts. She inherited her grandmother’s 1957 Martin guitar when she was in fifth grade and realized she should learn to play it. She studied poetry in college while working on a lettuce farm and dodging darts while singing in local bars. She was signed to folk label Red House Records in 2007 and with seven albums to her credit, has toured widely in the U.S, Ireland and the U.K. She has found that music is a wonderful tool for mental health advocacy work. She currently resides in Boston and is writing a children’s book.