Sights on Spring
Morning Moons
Lighting the path beyond,
the moon leans toward a fate larger than death,
the eastern sun bullied by looming clouds of day.
Life speaks daily in the rise and fall–
hope wrapped in even the darkest morn.
Hunting Season
It’s that time of life when gentle and innocence fall
the eyes of the deer go dark
while the heart of sporting egos reign.
We all feel broken a bit
and generations suffer generations.
As foot prints in the snow crush the buds beneath
we all stay hungry for peace.
Maternal
Not thinking much about god these days,
trapped in stone and stained glass.
Though everywhere I look
tangible, take your breath away visions
most often
strong, nurturing and wise
like a Mom.
Branching
Tangled Twisted.
Winding Wombs.
Birthed beyond edges and endings.
Carried cradled warm with hope.
Veiled
What happens next is all unseen.
A new day, new year all veiled
Each breath treasuring the dark and unknown
whispering hope without light.
Leaving the ICU
What I saw
of a body punctured,
wounded alone
Cords and catheters
holding the surge
of life
Ventilated breath
until time blinked
on and off
In a violent dance
the parade began
Ieaving the ICU
Leaving
I saw it whipped
waving above
nearly alone
holding on.
I saw the cords
life surging on
from ground to stem attached.
Then off balance
in twinkling light
I heard a breath
release…
past all the others hanging still
a twirl and dance, a northern front
leaving ties
the shackles gone
and falling free at last.
November Friends in the Cold
#Nature #Photography #BirdsofTwitter
yesterdays
Today the flow slows
pressing the line
hard with whispers
of bygone time
and treasures
just now remembered.
#photography #nature #SundayThoughts
Rushed
What of a moment
makes for time to collapse
onto itself
into itself
until the flow escapes notice
and the big one gets away
Red
bleeding out,
stop
color blind,
hot
change and die,
drop
never blush-
red
Osprey
Cape Henlopen Delaware
9.22.21
fine lines
Amid the broken fragments
smoothed
by time and trauma,
lie spaces
thinned and shattered,
spellbound by weathered hope
and promise.
cut
With each step and breath
nothing stays the same
the cut is made
never to be undone
only hearts look back
and wonder why
love is lost
in sacrifice
Refraction
Time bends moist moments
into pain
birthing
refractions
of shallow hope
with life lines into tomorrow
Ohio Beauty
#HockingHills
The Kiss
When life is taken
Time stops
Reverses even
Memory cradles Moments
Mistakes and
Madness
Hear then the chimes awaken
All souls
Forgiven en mass
Resurrected
Kissed
Death to life imagined
Turns
Driving into the sun
left of center
Grace escaped
time beyond the rhythm
regret
Deep breath
hope
Speeding life beyond imagination
Days of Fathers
for Michael
Silent
Strong
Edges and borders
Marking love like a destination.
The grey in between, though, soft and caring.
Big-Brother-Like
birthed in so much softness
trained now to guard
the soul of hearth and home.
Beget
I will remember
this innocence
tattered by life and broken
dead
grace be damned
and fathered still
I will remember
though knowing too late
the father loss pain
of his begetting
Time away—skies the limit
Sparkle
Even in the darkest waters
Energy lurks
Enduring time
Enlisting seasons of change
To spark the flow.
Capture
The substance of love
mother to child
far more than touch
as bonding glances capture the soul
sick from want within
knowing life is love everlasting.
Nocturnal
When will it be okay to just be tired?
not angry
-startled by shadows of fear
not depressed
-nursing hate into despair
not anxious
-spinning wants into the air
Just tired
-resting calm
eyes closed
-finding peace
Regret
Listening
between the lines
of gray and green,
dreaming
lost in regret
with want and hope.
We own the place… right?
From Under
When the under stuff sticks
stays
like a cape
covering all the hurt
hate
from within
reaching up to find
a breath.
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Pexels.com Robinson, Marilynne. Gilead (Oprah’s Book Club) (p. 7). Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Kindle Edition.
Love lost
Hidden
wounds
living time
beneath the
insecure reach
that trades touch for protection
Chill
A Great Lakes second winter comes with a chill
as leaves skip and fly across hop scotched grass
with the whistle of ones waving from the tree top
swinging between sun and shade
in want of spring’s rebirth
so full and drunk with salvation
Blending
Lost in the colors
of neighbors with barren views
desperate
everyone blending
searching
for a place called home
Froze
Future unknown
Trapped in silence
a work-until-death view
of life suspended
Froze.
Bleak Midwinter
Unseen
Life moves beyond the time of a single life
no longer seen or known or heard
aware no one is aware
the hundreds of heart beats pound in fear
so small
so alone
to catch your eye if you dare
Chill
Bone cold
shiver
wanting a way to warm
forgotten
drafty doors but solid walls
shaken
within the embers burned
Epiphany
Words divide the sides,
felt and heard without soul or face.
Life though breathes
embodied now
Epiphany
traveled in foreign lands
beyond lines and limits
under stars out of reach
while love divine walks close.
Christmas Angel… saving 2020
Creating Christmas
This season is both new and old.
Treasure both.
St Nicholas
A favored Christmas piece.
Honest gaze- no glitz
Winter
coat white outside
layered over
inside
lost in a season
incognito
buried in the hope
rooted within
nurture
Cold near death
alone
no warmth of breath
no glow of caring-
but running deep into the pain,
a voice heard
without a sound made—
Be healed.
Time
Lived as if traveled
from place to another space.
Felt as if stricken or lost in a fading dream
Forgotten always in bliss and love-
slower and slower in gasps of hope.
A whirl and window
until a story becomes in time,
beauty at last.
Peace
Exhaled
breath to the end
Emptied
pulsing heart
confused by hate and race
not white
under the weight of grace-less men
this Black life matters
"Mama" please
rest in peace
nights
I don’t know in the night
about corner edges and how they hurt
about who is in charge of my broken heart
breath so loud with fear
and yet no voice
tears fall fast and never seen
the space divorced from eastern light
I don’t know in the night
about me, about hope
Awaiting Spring
FLIGHT FIGHT
Jays own the trees
up. down.
round the row
of closed doors,
home to the lonely
fallen ones
with broken wings of expectation
failing flight and fight.
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