Tag Archives: nature

In a Field of Flowers

At dusk’s glowy light
as the moon began to rise
and the summer sun slowly sank gracefully into the horizon
I rode an old but sturdy bicycle
to a field of flowers
A dream this was in my mind
many a time
And I stopped for a moment to let it in
to feel the breeze on my face
and watch the white daisies sway
Could I live here forever
I calmly asked myself
Could I bask in country’s earthen simplicity
I surely am not a big city girl
Could I keep my hands dirty
and ride this bicycle for miles in solitude
The black horse in the distance neighed and I dreamed for a moment that I could
In a field of flowers
as evening settled in.

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As the Rooster Crows

As the rooster crows
the hidden sun shines behind murky grey clouds

But the air is not murky
as tepid drops of rain fall and gather like pools of light on pink pedals and green leaves of oak
soaked right in an early summer festival of storms

I watched as they rolled in quietly then came bursting in loud and quick as foxes

Then leaving in a rumble rumble want of repetition 

The morning does crave the rooster’s crow
as pale silence beyond rainfall waits for its decision to bring about inference of breath 

A gentle stirring of the day
Some work, some play
And a space to curl up and ponder 
Set forth creative endeavors

Basking walking smiling dreaming
As the rooster crows.

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The Fallen Leaves (the passing of time)

Trudging knee-high in leaves
discarded shelter now food for soil

The passing of time long arduous
and fleeting all at once

We wish for high winds
to carry all away

And when they do come
blow our hearts out of our chests

Maddening deafness except
the blind chatter of our minds

and the crunch swish crunch
of fallen foliage at our feet

Trek on still
with our eyes set forward

Lest we cackle like mad men
in the unforgiving forest of
despondency.

fallen-leaves-wallpaper-3

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A Bird Call, A Meditation Song

A bird call
a meditation song
words spoken to the sea

spinning in the high winter’s sky
where the pelicans fly
and the hawk and dove and osprey

singing their tune
which I cannot translate
yet reminding me to breathe and let be

Uttered forth among ocean waves
these affirmations floating to you
and cascading back to me.

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Bathing In

I need to bathe in the music of the soul

That which is beautiful and free
without sadness

I don’t want to bathe in the bloated belly
of discontentment and sorrow
and hopelessness

There is a light out there
that shines brighter than any
chasm is dark

And it doesn’t blind
but leads and fulfills and carries
when the void does come

Bathe with me in this

Engulf in the sweet luminous sound
of all that is good in this world.

img_6655

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December Fall

The hollow acorns spill like fat hail onto the clay
I wonder if the squirrels had their party
When night time comes and silent calmness still
we hear the gunshot pop of the mighty oak seeds
fall onto rooftops and roll to their woody graves

Aye the hibiscus still flitting about
although her petals dry and withered
Sweet smells of night-blooming jasmine
permeate the nostrils instead
as we waft by their perfumed doorway

Dawn’s cloudy turns to sunset’s muted glow
and all between is mix of haze and bright
cool and warm and wishing for snow
but only in dreams does the icy world flow
for here we have wind and sun and fallen acorn hull.

shumard-oak-tree-acorns

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A Dance in the Garden

This morning I sat on my lanai
and there I watched a butterfly
it flitted from leaf to bulb to twig
then soared along the crest
of October wind

The bees
they were present too
preparing loquats born
below winter’s moon

And beyond the shrill hull
of locust call
a songbird chirped her
pleasant psalm

And all these things
before the hour of ten
Would if I could have
this morning again

To sit in solitude
with nature
at my shoulders
To notice perhaps
what do not others

butterfly

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Time, exxasperated

To the brink of tears over this devilish concept time
yet it is as concrete as mathematical equations
(perhaps a parallel universe where time actually does stand still exists)

Live in the moment we say to our ADD brains
and sometimes we do
These days it does not compute

The clock is spinning and there is a lump in my throat,
heaviness in my heart
from all these sunrises and sunsets seemingly happening within seconds of each other

And I am not getting younger
and neither are you

I don’t like it like this

I need space and freedom and time
time to just sit with you
and watch the tops of the trees
time to breathe
to just be.

clocks

image courtesy of pretzellogic.org

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Quiet Symphony of Spring

The loquat buds are ready to greet their buzzing partners
and the crows have taken over the birdsong symphony

A sheath of grey pink cloud hovers over the bright white sunrise
Remnants from last night’s rush of spring rain fall from the branches like tears down a round cheek

A scattering of soaked leaves plastered to the ground

The lounge chair moved to view a sunset days ago

For a moment time holds still
No work to bind
no nagging unfolded
frustration at bay

A bud of hope in this heart
that I may again relish the sunset with you
and awake in your embrace
on the crest of a slow-moving sunrise.

 

I wrote this a month ago. But it seems silly to leave it in my drafts section. I hope you enjoy and take/feel something from it. How do you feel this spring?

 

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What the Train Conductor Say

I pump the pedals of my bicycle
along the paved trail
where once were train tracks

Sunshine gleaming through trees
and the wind at my neck

I have spent miles and miles here
But today I hear those locomotive engines
and the words from the train conductor
at the helm of his mighty craft:

“Sometimes it get lonely out here
so I seek the solace of my position.
For I am not really alone.

I see the backs of these shops and houses
I see the side that is hidden away from view.
I get a glimpse of the back door, the fruit trees
ready to bear their tropical seeds, mothers and daughters
hanging clothes on the line to dry in the sunshine.

I see men tending to gardens
and boys playing chase.

When they hear the horn in the distance
sometimes they crawl outta their sheds.
Some of them pay no mind.
Some of them wave and smile and go on about their business.

But some of them got no smile on their face.
They want to jump right on the train
and go far far away.
Those are the ones that show me their soul.
And all I can do is leave a billow of coal smoke
to remind them of hope.”

And that is what the train conductor say.

I pedal and pedal
along these old tracks
feeling the cool wind
and the heat of yesterday

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Photo courtesy of me: JeniferBPhotography

 

 

 

 

 

 

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