Lush, towering hills paint your body’s frame
My fingers caress your golden hairs as they fold within the wind
Reflective, glittering lakes quench your frozen skin
My feet skim your surface then sink beneath, enveloped
Loud, striking forests guard your gentle soul
My body grasps your foundation, protected by wooden spears
But now
Now
What once was a blissful covering of white
Now penetrates my skin
Turning my spirited blood into an icy cold
Now
Now
You’ve lingered on
My every longing is for this white caged dwelling to end
My every longing is for this stiff bundled existence to cease
Dearest Minnesota, love of my life
End this cruelty
This unpredictable penalty
My heart feels distant from you
It longs to be near your warmth
Your light
The returning of your inhabitants
Dearest Minnesota, muse of my poem
Restore my hope
My wavering faith
My heart feels distant from you
I wouldn’t desire to live anywhere else, but for a filmmaker who likes to know no limits, I must admit my beloved Minnesota is the most challenging location to attempt a film project. This land of 10,000 lakes is cursed with inconsistent weather patterns, particularly, long and harsh winters. You would think that being a Minnesota native, I would have learned by now to write stories for the screen which do not require sun-filled afternoons and lush green foliage. After many single-digit-temperature outdoor shoots, snow-capped “summer” settings, and incongruous exterior shots, I continue with my optimism. With no surprise, that optimism has failed me yet again. I have pleaded with God, begged with Belinda Jensen, and propositioned Mother Nature to withhold this snow storm until the conclusion of our last few days of shooting Mother of Us All.
Though, contrary to the words of this ode, I have not lost all faith, for I know it’s all in God’s hands.
Prayers accepted.
Happy spring sledding to you faithful and intrigued readers.
