What's up? It's Major.

Today's episode of The Slowdown is selected and presented by the poet and writer Maggie Smith.

I'll return to the host chair on Monday, February 17th.

I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the slowdown.

Nearly all of us have visited or relocated to a place where the trees, birds, bodies of water, and weather patterns are different from what we are used to.

We are confronted with that newness daily.

Years ago, I spent a couple of weeks in Tucson, Arizona, as a poet in residence at the university there.

One of the graduate students told me that all the new poets write desert poems during the first semester.

I laughed because I knew I'd be writing some desert poems too. I've lived in Ohio

so long that when I travel, I automatically compare my surroundings to home. In Texas, I notice how

the trees are not Ohio trees. In northern California, the air is misty and moist,

not like Ohio. It's funny how, despite the great distance, Ireland is one of the places that

feels most like Ohio to me, thanks to the wide expanses of green. When I'm new to a place, I'm surprised,

even caught off guard by the landscape. I approach it with a sense of wonder. To quote Emily

Dickinson, wonder is not precisely knowing and not precisely knowing not.

A poem is the ideal place to attend to wonder.

A poem is a site of discovery not only for the reader but for the writer,

a place where the writer might learn what they think through the

process of writing.

When I travel, I can't help but pull images and metaphors from the places I visit.

One of the things I love about being in a new place is experiencing the flora and fauna of that

place.

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