Weaving with Nature

 

Humidity from the warm front has animated

my stick and twig loom

twisting it wildly out of shape

to warn of an oncoming storm.

Orange nasturtiums and knotweed leaves,

small yellow leaves with daisy buttons,

and fresh green ferns

add color to this gray, late June afternoon.

(Click on the image for a closeup.)

2020 Weaving

  

 

 

Beaver at Rock House Reservation

Beaver eating a twig on the path.

More foraging.

Too busy to care that I was watching.

Exploring greens under a boulder.

Standing up to get the best bits.

Taking a branch back to the pond.

imagine

nature takes matters

into its own hands

the meek determine

to inherit the Earth

the atmosphere

breathes clean

justice overrules

rulers and the cruel

a new beginning

with peace on Earth

in a world

without end

indecision

yellow daffodils

opening

between snowflakes

faith

a moment before landing

the bird tucks in

to fly without wings

Bittersweet and Brambles

Bittersweet and brambles:

scrambled, tangled -

preferable to pass by

this hedge mess

to look for something

more beautiful

but

look . . .



how the bittersweet

smooth and sinuous

gently coils

round the brambles

and rests between

their shard sharp

thorns



so stands through winter snows

avoids the trampling feet

of hungry deer

preferring to pass by

tangled and scrambled

bittersweet and brambles.

Interrupted

Last year's verses

didn't make it past the previews

seven lines

split awkwardly between

two verses

neither mad enough for March



interrupted

by

station identification

a message from our sponsors

this is a test of the national emergency system if this was a real test you are probably not listening anymore anyone anyhow

all of the above very LOUD



not good for the inwardly driven

veering off the road of verse

uncontrollably

confronted

by life

stumbling

into the brambles

of

words

thoughts

tangled

twisted

verses

interrupted



get up

dust off

try again

Page Not Found

not archived

innumerable

virtual pages

created

abandoned

left to drift

as

pix

e

l

s

like those

satellites

circling earth

till they crumble

into meaningless

bits

bytes

forgotten

by the

decided-to-go-live-real-lives

with no time left

to

s

a

v

e

.

.

.

Poetry Month 2019

poised for poetry

to stick its head out

from under the soft covers of winter

to taste the sweet air of Spring,

to listen if geese have announced,

to watch for early rising robins,

to smell bears tumbling from dens,

to touch words to paper

poised for poetry

Orion Rising

Orion has tracked

the heavy scent and

muddy steps of summer

through its steamy days,

blinding rains, and

days of dense fog.

He stands poised

at the edge of autumn

and peers

into its dark cave

filled with glittering stars.

Orion rises

and glances over his shoulder . . .

is that the icy breath of winter?