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Pierson Pflieger Jul 2013
There once was a lad from the Lone Star State,
who dreamed of exploration and realized that just over the horizon, adventure await.

He was commissioned by the internal desire for adventure,
which burns deep inside us all, and within him grew,
so he assembled a ragtag crew to explore a land seen by few.

He set off for the ancient land- more north than he’d ever been-
whose beauty and wonder only true voyageurs and men of the wilds knew.

By air and by land, the voyageur lad traveled to his Uncle’s cabin,
nestled deep within the Harshaw Hill country.
  
This legendary cabin, was built solely by the hands of the one they call Uncle Buck-
the most amazing cabin one could ever see.

Uncle Buck is renowned and recognized throughout the land
for his merit, adventurous spirit, long grizzled beard, and skillful hand.

It was here, in the cabin’s comfort, the brave Sugar Beans (as he was fondly named)
greeted his courageous crew with a hearty, “Boozhoo!”
They were some of the finest canoeists around-
paddlers tested, tried and true.

Together they pondered, planned, and plotted the course of their adventure
for which they’d set forth;
packed their belongings, and dreamed of North.

Sugar Beans’ crew consisted of five, rugged braves-
paddlers he knew had grit and could battle the wind, rain, and waves.

Uncle Buck, a wise and grizz old guide, had seen many moons in the Northland sky.              
Respect of all living things and the song of the wild are the codes to which he ascribes.

Jonesy, a well-traveled voyageur himself and Sugar Beans’ proud dad,
had been to this land and wanted to share its magic with his brave little lad.

Joeseppi , a young blood at heart, was the lad’s loyal cousin and friend,
a trustworthy bowman, on whom all paddlers could depend.

Makwa, the newcomer- fierce as a bear and as tough as the rest-
and after day one, she gave it her best.

And last there was Pierrὲson; the lad’s other cousin and fellow adventure zealot,
who once learned his lesson and stayed away from anything that resembled an apricot.

They loaded the van, strapped on the canoes, and greeted the early morning with a boisterous “Bonjour!” and embarked North to begin The Magical Northwoods Mystery Tour.

Traversing blue highways the voyageurs meandered north, through the wilds of Wisconsin and the Land of 10,000 lakes, hoping to make the Canadian border before it was too late.

Eventually they arrived at the Magical Northwoods’ doorway- delicate and ornate.
The crew unloaded their gear and launched their canoes- confident and sure.
Each eager paddle stroke brought them closer to all the memories they would create.

And Sugar Bean and his crew created memories- some of the best.
Memories that seep into dreams and make one feel blessed.  

Memories of:

discovering a pictograph and plodding through a ****** river- just to get back on path;

stumbling upon wolf tracks and forgetting the fishing poles- but never the packs;

exploring  craggy caves and battling and paddling against the wind and waves;

hunting for ice under rock clefts out of the sun, they searched and searched but came up with none;

swimming in the warm water nearly every day and asking painted turtles if they wanted to play;

practicing the art of stalking seagulls, and on every lake, they gave greeting the glorious eagles;

dropkicking each and every single portage and of food and laughter there was no shortage.

The crew came back with fantastic tales and experienced everything a voyageur could wish.
And although his dad will try to tell you it was only by an eighth of an inch, there are pictures to prove that Sugar Beans caught the biggest fish!

So here’s a paddle rattle for you- young voyageur lad- the greatest voyageur old Quetico’s ever seen!  May your adventurous spirit continue to grow and may the waters you paddle always be serene.
Pierson Pflieger Mar 2013
When I look into your eyes,
God is granting me a glimpse of what’s to come:

warmth and love,
wholeness.

His discerning hand working,
blessing us with children.

I see challenges and difficulties,
but with His help, nothing insurmountable.

We have strength and confidence
to provide for our children and love them unconditionally.  

Our children-
A patchwork quilt of love:

A brilliant child- once institutionalized and neglected-
who knew no comfort or hope-
knows love and belonging.

A healthy child- once lonely and scared
with an aching, distended stomach-
is now happy and strong.

An able child- once contorted,
powerless to walk, left isolated and discarded-
takes steps to accomplish dreams.

I see their smiles.  
I feel their joy.
We are family.

They are growing and thriving-
achieving and succeeding.
We believe in them.

Though only glimmers in your eyes,
they are beautiful and we love them.
My wife and I are passionate about adoption.  Although we cannot right now, we want to have big family- some children of our own, some adpoted...all gifts from God.
Pierson Pflieger Mar 2013
Waiting    listening    watching -
senses strain against
the darkness.

Dark gives way to gray
enough to see
deceptive shadows.

The woods stir slowly.
Chickadees speak, still sleepy.
Leaves rustle in the distance

alerting vigilant ears and eyes; inciting hope.
Scanning the ridge and shooting lanes, my eyes - then ears -
lock on rummaging squirrels.  

Cold hands slip back into pockets;
it tries to snow.
Ravens complain        back        and        forth.

Stillness -
then the rise of wind
through the trees.

Around eleven I walk to Dad’s stand.
Quiet talk and hot soup -
no deer.

The afternoon is spent, back against a Maple, with cautious thoughts comfortable enough to creep forward and linger in the peace of the woods.
This is a poem I wrote on my stand opening morning of deer hunting, two years ago.  Hunting is a family tradition I cherish.  I don't have to see any deer for it to be a successful hunt.  I enjoy sitting in the woods, an invisible observer, alone with my thoughts.  It's also the one opportunity I have to have some candid moments with my dad.
Pierson Pflieger Mar 2013
straining
eyes and aching back
summer sun skin    sandy toes
wet pants rolled up

waves recede
look close search seek scan
sand shells stones pebbles grit    glass

churned by tarnished Michigan water and sand
smoothed by time
left to find

brown blue white green
small large rounded angled flat clear
frosted smooth
each piece
a trophy

each piece a memory a moment
minutes hours and
afternoons spent
together
Pierson Pflieger Mar 2013
The conscious decision
to make your life
about
someone else.
Pierson Pflieger Feb 2013
We dream of a home-
nothing excessive, just what we need:
love,
a mess of babies,
and dogs.

We dream of a home
and
being rooted in our careers-
satisfying and purposeful,
with enough pay to not worry.
Enough to provide for a family,
everything they need.

We dream of a home
and raising our children there.
A few of our own, some adopted-
all gifts from God.
Raising them with patience and love;
instilling in them the faith,
morals, and values
our parents instilled in us.

Our new apartment is nicer
and feels like home.
Decorated with our favorite memories:
polaroid moments,
a jar of concert tickets,
bottle of sandglass:
blues and greens (our favorite),
browns and whites,
you and me,
minutes,
hours,
afternoons.

Teacher’s pay and grad school:
student loans, car payments;
bills.
We don’t have a lot, but
we save what we can
for the life we want to have.
Too poor for a house,
contentment
can be our home.
Pierson Pflieger Apr 2012
The lines on his face-
road map of a life well lived.
A map to follow.
A nod to my Uncle Mark.
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