Terri’s Sunday Stills prompt this week is “your happy place” ahhhh, there have been so many. We’re international travelers. Every year we’ve been out of country for some period of time (usually a month or more). Needless to say 2020 has been somewhat of a let down. Like most people, we’re still learning to cope with the “new normal” so very different from the “old normal.” But we’re adapting and there are still hundreds of beautiful places to visit. Cautiously, carefully. So a few of my happy places from right here in my own “backyard” …
Over oceans I have traveled across the lands by plane and car I have hiked the forests green and wished upon a Shanghai star of the places I have been to the happiest by far the only place that I call home is any place you are
Kim from Writing in North Norfolk is hosting at dVerse today and would like for us to write a bit of prosery including the following line from D.H. Lawrence’s poem “Hummingbird:”
‘We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time’.
For an added challenge, we are limited to 144 words.
I take his gnarled hand in mine. Papery skin seeming somehow fragile. Hands that gently bottle fed a newborn kitten also struck fearsome taekwondo punches. Big hands, strong hands that made a little girl feel safe, that wiped away the tears and lifted the child back onto the bicycle. Hands that were meant for delicate technical work, not to be the home for needles and tubes. Brothers are weeping. We look at him through the wrong end of the long telescope of Time. Somehow the giant of a man appears reduced by the ravages of years. In my mind, I turn the telescope and see the young man diving from high cliffs into the surf far below. His hand caresses my cheek, wiping away one last tear. He whispers “don’t weep for me my angel” as I watch the light fade from his eyes.
Our Sunday Stills prompt is hosted by Cathy at Picture This and our prompt is “winter”. Now I have a confession to make. I love Winter. I love the cold temps, big fluffy sweaters, lapgans, fireplaces and all things hygge. I live in the Black Hills of South Dakota, USA where winter temps in fahrenheit measure in the single digits and nightly lows are well below 0 (-18c). And, yes I love Winter everywhere we go. Here are a few Winter shots from some of our travels.
Come Winter and welcome bring your frozen kiss bring your stunning sunrise bring your cozy bliss
Come Winter and welcome I cherish your dimming light sweaters, books, steaming mugs my fireplace burning bright
How to I love thee? Let me count the ways I love you like the flower loves the sun’s bright rays I love you with my very soul and I’ll love you all my days between my heart and yours many words lose their way Just how many are there I have often wondered I may not know the total but, it’s more than a hundred
Lillian is the host of Open Link Night on dVerse Poets Pub and one of her sayings is“Normal” is a setting on a dryer.(lillian) Which got me to thinking about my own sayings that I use a LOT right now. One of which is: “Average is a mathematical equation; normal is an illusion.” (JPP). So in honor of all the times people have said to me “this is the new normal” only to hear “normal is an illusion” I give you …
They call it the new normal for me it’s another day of masks and social distance and, really, that’s Okay
Normal never did mean all that much to me it’s just a grand illusion whose source I cannot see
So I walk my path alone isolation’s not so tough for I have magic in my veins and for me that’s quite enough
Secret Garden – Nocturne (Lyric Video) ft. Anne Takle
Kim881 from Writing in North Norfolk, is our host for this week’s Haibun Monday
“For this challenge, I ask you to think about your own birthdays, ones from the past, one that is coming up, a memorable one, or one you are dreading. Whether it’s birthday cake and balloons, a quiet glass of wine on your own that turned into something memorable, or a complete disaster, I’d like you to share a birthday with us.”
Born on a cusp with an aura of blue, a child between signs. Always looking for where she fit in. Black and orange confetti, fairy costumes and pumpkins as happy children dance around the cake table. A birthday wish for magic and a pony.
Birthdays come and birthdays go. Her aura darkens as does the world. No dinner, no parties, nowhere that she fits in. No need to hide her blackened eye. Alone, she makes her birthday wish for magic and love.
Moons wax and wane as life goes on. She finds love again, and trust. Purple and black decorations, a pointy hat adorned with flowers, love and laughter. Amber eyes twinkle with merriment. No need for birthday wishes, she has all she needs, she IS magic.
Candle burning bright years come and go by too fast blow the candle out
Many thanks to Cathy over at Picture This for hosting Sunday Stills for us during Terri’s August blogging break. Our prompt for this week is “Beautiful Beaches”
I was born to be a mermaid but by nature was betrayed to live this false existence and walk this world on legs the ocean’s song still sings within my heart and mind peace and calm engulf me as I watch the waves unwind
Stronger —Under the Sea: A Descendants Short Story
Our host a dVerse Poets Pub Tuesday Poetics is Laura Bloomsbury, who asks us for our flights of fancy. The following is based on a real life observation of a nesting pair of Great Horned Owls who were being tormented by a scold of very noisy jays. One of the adult owls defiantly lured the jays away and suddenly turned on them, snatching one unwitting fellow right out of the air.
Flight of Fancy/Dance of Death
Whump, whump, whump the air throbs under the assault of massive wings three powerful strokes and he is aloft master of the thermals
He dips one wing in silent condolence to the pitiful flightless things below while defiantly flying straight into the scold of jays, and through
He climbs ever higher, taunting inconsequential forms of lesser birds that fall behind in the chase still jeering they cluster … until
Pivoting on one wing, he falls with sharp talons and flared wings like an avenging angel set to smite their relentless taunting
A silent cloud of black feathers announces his success