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The Writings of Karen Aakeberg


I pull up in my Toyota, park on the side of the road, and there’s a wide -open space. It’s a big meadow fronting the mountains. Mountain peaks are in the background.A sign earlier said “You are now entering Summerside Park.” I’m wearing shorts, a jean jacket, a backpack, leather comfy hiking boots, a hat, and sunglasses. It’s a cross between spring and summertime. There are a few cars on the road. I get out of the car, and my boots crunch on the gravel. My backpack has chicken sandwiches, a banana, an apple, and a bottle of water. I start walking down the meadow and see columbine, wild aster, and wild flowers here and there. Antelope are there – they run away. The ground is dry but the soil is not hard packed – it’s softer. I walk towards the mountains until I hit a stream that connects to a larger river. There are rocks near this river and aspen across it. I sit and munch one of the sandwiches. I walk until I can’t see my car anymore. The river gets larger and noisier. I see shapes in the water- trout! I keep walking until I reach a group of aspen trees. I sit down on a patch of ground and finish my lunch. I return to my car before it gets dark – always keeping in mind which direction I came so I can find my car. I head back home.


Poems are concentrated word

messages it seems to me

like a favorite fruit drink

or nutritious vegetable cocktail,

taken in doses, savored, flavored,

relished; some have sad tones,

others more upbeat. Others have

a profound philosophical message

or reflect history, current events
and trends. Or yet others

attempt to direct our attention

to neglected topics that need addressing.

In short they are like business memos

of the authors to their audience yet

somehow reverent, requesting deep thought~

like an operatic theme.


Drops of sun refreshing

renewing some say gloomy

others April showers-May flowers.

Renewal fresh air invigorating it’s

a cleansing nature baptism.


Depicted in paintings and photos

reflecting moods of the artist,

viewer of current times.

Swirls of rioting color

or calm placidity.

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