Thursday, December 22, 2016

on a lark

On a lark, 
I set out on a journey one winter's night,
the road was slick and icy and not plain of sight.

Without looking for magic, it came to me,
.beauty in the form of ordinary things to be.

I passed by barns the color of raspberry pie,
while huge flakes of snow fell from the sky. 

Each flake took on a different shape,
gently falling, swaying as it went, like a cape.

against the snow, 
Glorious golden and smoldering light, 
glowed in the night.

Time moving out of step, I chased,
not linear but out of place, time, and space.

now on foot, I traveled deeper, the snow blew by in the night air,
and the sun began to rise with what appeared to be, great care.

creatures of the night, peered out here and there,
speaking in languages that were not so clear.

I passed dancing bears and foxes tucked in near, 
to tight places and i think i had tea with a deer.

Slowly, I was greeted with 
event, really no more than a tent.

Floating and hovering,
in the early morning late night, 
it was a very welcome sight.

On a lark,
I stepped inside and fell asleep, i woke in a dream 
took out my pens and sketched the scene.

Trying in vain to give it meaning,
not understanding... nothing was clear, everything was leaning.

with serendipity and amazement,
some days are like this, open your arms to life and welcome it.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

summer's frost

portland 2016

This morning I saw death waiting for me by the side of the road,
like a summer's frost, it came to me as a lone figure in dark grey behind the church. 
As if I could divert it, I began gathering all the beauty that I could and I called in a thousand singing voices
sending them to God. 
and slowly softly through the sounds I began to gather springs first blooms in pale shades of baby breath.
wiping tears from my eyes, I then gathered bold earthy smells from the forest new growth and threw them out to the winds.
I reached out with my arms like a blind person to gather the touch of the suns rays on my cheeks, the warmth overwhelmed me.
Knowing this could be fleeting, I wanted to paint one last picture 
to capture it all.
There was something seductive about all of this activity and I started to dance. I wanted to paint with my toes, leaving imprints in the dirt.  
Then suddenly, just as quickly as the figure moved into my view,
it was gone and I was still here. and even more 'here' than before.
It was nurturing and humbling to gather beauty and I wondered why I had not done it before.