My Friend

I want no company today

but cold streams,

and misty grey mountains.

Long-logged slopes

scattered with greyed, fallen trunks

as if thrown from the hands of some angry child

exactly match my mood.

I need cold winds,

clarity,

and solitude.

My friend!

My friend is leaving us;

fading away in her hospital bed,

somehow undiminished

by the cancer that is stealing her away.

Not so dramatic as a bombing at a marathon,

or an explosion in West, Texas,

her going is still a tragedy to me.

It is no comfort knowing,

now,

that her memory will stay with me.

I know no consolation

from the wingèd spirits

so often mentioned in your platitudes.

My friend.

My friend is leaving us...

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Please be respectful of my work.  All the photographs in this post are protected by copyright and may not be used without my written permission. 

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Genoa Bay

Ceruleun skies

led me outdoors,

along winding roads,

to a little spit of land

where water meets stone

and starfish live,

where mussels adorn

hard edges

and cling to mooring ropes,

where weathered wood

and rusted metal

support floating homes

and potted gardens,

where strawberries grow

next to salt water,

and tall sunflowers

nod against rust brown trellises,

where yellow boats
sport dark red sails, 

and weathered jetties

bridge still waters

mirroring gold leaves.

I found Autumn there.

She reached out warm hued fingers

and took my heart
gently
in her hands.

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Please be respectful of my work.  All the photographs in this post are protected by copyright and may not be used without my written permission.
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Sunset

Two summers ago I moved to this place.

Or back to it.
 It was my childhood home,
but I regretted leaving the windswept beaches

and rugged scenery

of my north island town.

This new home is a gentler place 

with rolling green pastoral fields

instead of the sharp blue peaks

I was accustomed to seeing in the distance.

One night, 

desperate,

I phoned my brother and said

"Please, take me where the water is!"

He took me to the estuary

and, although the light was beautiful,

I was disappointed

by tame scenery

and level green fields.

Mother Nature must have felt my disappointment

because,

as the sun began to set,

she showed me pyrotechnics

the likes of which I'd never seen before.

She lit the sky with oranges, reds, and purples

that were reflected

in the quiet waters

and,

with that single spectacular event,

tied my heart to this new place

so that,

even when I'm bored

or sad,

I still remember

brilliant sunset hues.

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Please be respectful of my work.  All the photographs in this post are protected by copyright and may not be used without my written permission.
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This post is linked to Simple Things Sunday hosted by Simple As That, to Gallery of Favorites hosted by Premeditated Leftovers and The 21st Century Housewife, and to Saturday Night Special hosted by Funky Junk Interiors.

 

Look Up!

Look at him,

suspended there,

so effortless in flight

while, 
below,

we toil away,

intent on our small industries,

oblivious, 

to the daily celebration

soaring all around us.

Look up!

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Please be respectful of my work.  The photo and text in this post are protected by copyright and may not be used without my written permission.

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This post is linked to Simple Things Sunday, hosted by {The Simple Things}.

A Perfect Light

Sometimes

—every once in a while—

a perfect light

illuminates

a perfect sight.

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Please be respectful of my work.  All the photographs in this post are protected by copyright and may not be used without my written permission.
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Spring

It begins with tiny snowdrops

shivering
in the middle
of frost-bejeweled lawns,

and primulas in colourful skirts

crouched
along the edges
of damp flower beds.

The crocuses come crowding in

and tiny violets
peek

sweet faced

between the blades of greening grass.

Hellebores dress shady corners,

ladylike
in pink and green

and daffodils shout
YELLOW
to the wind.

Buds blush
upon the fingertips

of aged apple trees

And shy forget-me-nots

whisper
loved ones' names to me.

Now come the cherry trees,
double flowering,
blousy barmaids,
shouting for attention

but...
it is the white veiled apple tree
that takes my breath away,
as it waits
to take the hand
of the first summer day.

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Please be respectful of my work.  All the photographs in this post are protected by copyright and may not be used without my written permission.
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This post is linked to Gallery of Favorites hosted by Premeditated Leftovers and The 21st Century Housewife, and The Simple Things hosted by Simple As That.

I Could Live Here

No shopping malls.

No fast food take out.

No community college.

No theater.

I thought,

"I could never live here."

But then I heard the waves breaking on the shore.

saw mussel shells scattered in the grass,

and hanging moss 

glowing vivid green,

backlit by winter sunshine.

I wet my hands in ice cold

blue-green creeks,

contemplated white tree trunks

in spring-time snow,

and looked at ponds so still

that it was difficult to know

where solid ends

and the liquid world begins.

And I thought

"I could LIVE here."

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Please be respectful of my work.  All the photographs in this post are protected by copyright and may not be used without my written permission. 
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This post is linked to Gallery of Favorites, hosted by Premeditated Leftovers and The 21st Century Housewife and to Simple Things Sunday hosted by Simple as That.