drop of water on clover
drop on leaf
light on plant
I have almost finished Christmas presents–
all of them semi- or all-homemade.
What else to do but work work and wrap and plan?
but snow drifted down today
I don’t always have to
but I can
A fallen leaf on ice
as a setting sun flickers.
leaf in water
leaf and seeds
I see the ivy creeping in through a metal screen
trying to infiltrate my living room
I leave the window open
leaf and light
it is snowing outside, and it is April
and people protest: this is spring!
I remind them: spring has always held snow
for the growth starts with frost
the petals only come after dormancy
and though the world may seem yellow,
it is fringed with green.
We are fishing, even though it is too windy to fish
I don’t care and I never have:
it’s not about catching the fish, but about being
out in the world, remembering the
breath of wind, fresh air
I am surrounded by invasive species
and the remnants of fishing: line, hook, worm can.
I sit in a dusty camp chair
with a hook full of bread
refuse to surrender to the ease of life
pick your own path
no matter how new.
leaves and light
moving upward, I am imperfect
but that is the whole reason
I am trying.
look at the small wisp of green, peaking out from detritus and snow. it makes me want to run around, all sappy-like, talking about hope and joy because the cliched dead winter is ending, and I get fresh air and sunshine. except for I’m stuck in an office typing on a typewriter because the computers won’t work.
I suppose I am fascinated by pictures of grass:
grass is so common and ordinary,
yet so beautiful.
so I keep taking pictures of it.
enter a world with me–
a queen, winter, swords, children
a lion roaring
yet, with the battle raging around
I look and see
the dead leaves are still on tree branches
they try to hold on when all hope is gone
I wish I was more like them.
cup it in your palm–
frozen. but it melts,
and the blue bliss, calm,
slowly fades and wilts.
There are hidden moments in our life
That fade away, and die from memory
But if they were treasured–
They would fill us up with light and laughter.
capturing the wind is
for the wind is
I can only capture a copy, an
that fails to find the reality
people dismiss grass. they refuse to see color
leaf and moss
long, thin leaf
fall leaves in evening sun
August 2, 2008 123_2