Everywhere I go I seem to find the Lady’s spirit watching me Look now, can you not see the Lady’s face within the tree or the feminine forms etched in stone nature’s hidden ghosts abiding grace of form now look through her eyes and you just might see all this world was meant to be
Frank is our host at dVerse for haibuns this week. We are asked to focus on the present moment for our haibun. Life is made up of moments, precious, terrifying, beautiful moments. Once in awhile, it all comes together and for just that moment, life is perfect.
Standing on the overlook, gazing at the fairytale landscape below. Orange and yellow stones painted with the colors of the setting sun, and the azure sky. You wrap an arm around my waist, and the moment is perfect.
I watch as the shadow of a butterfly dances across the floor, refracted through the sun and glass. Blending with hospital floors and furniture, forming abstract shapes. A cloud passes over the sun. I lose the shadow dance. The doctor walks in. You are alive. My heart overflows with gratitude, and the moment is perfect.
Spring warms the flowers the wind filled with promise and blessings not yet known
“The time has come,” I thought today “to ponder many things like kids and pets and photographs and why the wild bird sings”
I find myself in a bewilderment. Kids and pets … hmmm, I have no pets, and I generally don’t post pictures of kids (even my own). So that leaves me with those beautiful souls with whom we share this little blue world. I love the feeling of awe when I encounter animals in their natural habitat. I say a little prayer of thanks and treasure the places where the wild things are.
Above, a juvenile big horn sheep in Zion National Park, Utah. They sometimes come down from the higher elevations to feed and pose for tourists.
Here American Buffalo at Custer State Park in South Dakota. You don’t realize how truly huge they are until you experience them up close.
One harried momma duck with a passel of ducklings in Christ Church, NZ. We watched them cross the path heading for the pond, and laughed and laughed and laughed at Momma scolding and herding the brood. Yes, the comedy of motherhood is universal.
My precious little puff balls – Great Horned Owlets in our big pine in South Dakota. I think these count as both pets and kids. We watched them all summer grow from tiny bits of fluff to the day they stretched their wings and set out on their own. They were no longer cute little babies but full grown, gasp inspiring, raptors.
The Three Amigos in the Marlborough District of NZ. In a field full of spring lambs, these little guys found themselves a hill to defend. 🙂
Til next time ~Meet me where the wild things are ~JP
Down, down, down we go follow the path to the stream far below follow the stream to wherever it goes feel the magic as it ebbs and flows where fairies dance and the forest plays I found the magic where night meets day
De (aka WhimsyGizmo) is hosting Quadrilles at dVerse Poets Pub and has asked for a poem about “bother” what bothers us, what do we find bothersome? What gets us hot and bothered? Hmmm … as I poke my muse repeatedly until she finally gets tired of being bothered and manages to convey some sort of inspiration.
Dreams of Late — a quadrille
At night of late dark dreams have come frightening and bothersome dark shapes I cannot see swoop, harass and bother me moonless skies throughout the night colors fading from my sight searching for the moon’s bright light I wake to find it’s all illusion
Marsha at Always Write is hosting Sunday Stills this week, where our prompt is “Emerging.” So appropriate for Spring. Here in the Black Hills, we are still waiting for Spring patiently, ummm… with hopeful hearts … oh c’mon already. So here’s a little emerging tale from my archives and a few current shots as well.
Through the silent winter the world deeply slumbers emerging in the spring I find everything is different and yet everything’s the same
Spring is slowly emerging from the frozen Winter, here annuals beginning to pop up in the flower beds, ready to start a new season.
Things bloom late in this part of the country but when they do, oh my. The world quickly become a cacophony of sight and scent as the flowers compete for attention.
Here a shot from the high deserts of Utah, as succulents wriggle their way out of a crack in the stones. A classic example of “bloom where you are planted.”
And finally, a tiny sand crab emerging from his hidey hole on the beach in Kapaa, Hawaii
That’s it for this week, here at Chez Spoons, we wait for Spring to emerge from Winter’s cold embrace.
Laura is our host for dVerse poetics this week asking us for a poem based on paintings, or the titles of paintings. Do visit the pub for all the fascinating details.
I must say this was fun and challenging. I chose “Convergence” by Jackson Pollock and started with a painterly poem based on the title, an attempt to paint for you the vision I see when I think about “convergence.” Then, when I looked up the actual artwork, the words came out much different even though (for me) the feeling was the same. I should have expected the unexpected from Pollock’s work. I must say, I see much stargazing in my future because of this prompt so thank you ever so much Laura.
Convergence Part 1 — a painterly poem
convergence of planets align on a starry night leaning back on my elbows watching the indigo sky devolve into the stars of Orion the new moon rises in Gemini your lips graze my throat draws a shuddering breath you point out Betelgeuse, a red star burning bright, and Rigel steadfast and true your arm wraps around me as I shiver, stealing warmth from your body against the night air expectantly, I breathe you in and exhale into your kiss let the convergence begin
Convergence Part 2 an ekphrastic poem
Lines converge in distant galaxies harsh black and white splashes of red and gold Orion Nebula filled with gaseous debris, vapors and mist kiss of the heavens strength of the eons womb of the stars
For Sunday Stills our monthly color prompt is “spring green.” Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m more of an Autumn foliage photographer. Honestly, not a lot blooms or grows or gets green up here until sometime in April. Once again, photo archives to the rescue. The images that follow all evoke that feeling of Spring Green for me.
Love of a Leaf
Do not love me as a flower it’s easy to love a flower all heady aroma and beauty that quickly fades and dies
Love me as a leaf challenging, extraordinary plain, simple and strong holding tight when winds blow
Bleeding Hearts little ground level eye candy. I love the profusion of little leaves just emerging.
Coconuts Oahu, Hawaii Yes that is what a coconut actually looks like before it is harvested and shucked. When they reach maturity, they often become heavy and fall to the ground. Which can be dangerous when you’re busy snapping photos or walking down the path. Most often, the coconuts are removed from trees in “tourist” areas to avoid such unfortunate encounters with gravity, so I was really happy to be able to snap this shot.
Wild flowers in a crack in a boulder near Devils Tower, Wyoming. The beauty of Life is everywhere, you have but to open your eyes to see it.
A Lace Leaf Japanese Maple, at Queens Garden, Invercargill, NZ. I adore Japanese Maples, so delicate and gentle. I had them at my house in Kentucky and have seen many exceptional specimens in Kyoto Japan. Imagine, a Japanese Maple in, of all places, Japan.
Water Lilies Suzhou, China. I love water lilies, always have. We had them in our fish ponds in the house where I grew up. The lily pads are exquisite, long after the flowers have faded.
Unidentified yellow flower spike in Taichung, Taiwan. I love the way the leaves change as the plant grows. I have no clue what the plant is, but I love the vibrant green. btw, if you recognize the plant, let me know in the comments, my curiosity is peaked but no one in our party knew.
Kim is our host for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub, “the challenge is to write a metaphor poem that starts with the words ‘This being human is…’ You can compare being human to anything you want: a building or place, an object, something natural or something manufactured, a ritual or an everyday act. It is up to you to explore whatever it is in your poem.”
Humanity of Trees
This being human is a tree rooted deep within the earth yet reaching toward the sky drinking in the sunshine and pondering the eternal mystery of the moon and stars and our own humanity one tree with many branches each with thousands of leaves that sway and dance with the wind offering shade and shelter to all who seek respite, a quantum of solace and renewal always growing, always changing the wisdom of the seasons leaves that fade and fall in a flurry of color breathtaking reminders of the beauty of letting go this being human is… beautiful