The Attic of Unfinished Writing

“Whisper to me wind the secrets of the river,

Tell me ancient tales sure to make me shiver.

Of long ago days when these woods were young.

When stories were written and recited and sung.”

That passage is only one of many pieces of creative writing that have been relegated to my metaphoric Attic of Unfinished Writing. The place where all my unfinished ideas, stories, poems, etc. go to live, hoping for the day I will rediscover and finish them. The stanza just came to me during a visit to the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge in Wells, Maine, where I was captivated by the endless forest you could see in some spots. The cadence and the rhythm of the lines was something completely different from anything else I had ever written before and it excited me greatly. I put it into my phone, so I wouldn’t forget it, and…