
when night comes
to woodland meadows,
the dancing
wildflowers
cease their joyous gyrations
and tuck themselves in
–photo by me
when night comes
to woodland meadows,
the dancing
wildflowers
cease their joyous gyrations
and tuck themselves in
–photo by me
I’m out here at my friend’s farm today to check up on Lil Blue Eyes, the orphaned fawn. Shes seems to be doing quite well indeed, and it’s sweet, the way she follows Stephanie around like she’s her mom. She gives her little smooches in appreciation, and I can’t help but think of the words Jesus spoke:
“…I was hungry, and you gave me food;
I was thirsty, and you gave me drink;
I was a stranger, and you took me in;
I was sick, and you cared for me…”
I must admit that those words seem so far away from our nation’s current direction. They’re fading away, becoming abstract, unreal. But at least, here, right now, they’re real.
–Photo by me
the dark storms in life
occasionally bring us
a beauty unseen
–photo by me
wildflowers show the way
like the innumerable stars
that illuminate the dark
dusty lanes of the galaxy
–photo by me
to me, an antique
is not merely old,
but truly unique
and may even hold
an air of mystique
more precious
than gold
–photo by me
writers’ minds
may hold the small seeds
of some great
ideas
and yet, they may find themselves
waiting for the wind
–photo by me
There were certain girls in high school so beautiful that they could get any of us insecure young boys to carry their books, even though we knew that we were just being used; that’s what the Lady Slipper orchid reminds me of.
They are also very beautiful, especially the Pink Lady Slipper, Minnesota’s State Flower. They lure unsuspecting bees into their pink little pods through a one-way opening. Once inside, the bees find out there is no nectar for them, the usual payment for their help in pollination, and are, in fact, trapped inside.
Upon wrestling around to make their way to a small hole in the back, they shed any pollen they might have brought in on the plant’s female reproductive parts, and when they squeeze through the small opening in the back to escape, little packets of pollen from the male reproductive parts stick to their backs.
So they end up carrying the load without getting any nectar. Sounds familiar, all right.
–Photo by me
pelicans are made
from the leaves and sticks and foam
of raging rivers
–photo by me
i lie on the beach
under tangerine skies
amid scattered
and twisted debris,
while 13 black birds,
dispatched from
the sun,
are fast coming
‘cross the dark sea.
they’ve come
to escort
a lost soul
to the west,
a soul that’s been
newly set free,
and their black
beady eyes
look around
for their prize–
o why are they
looking at me?
–photo by me
It’s another great morning of jaw-dropping beauty, and I am officially 7 months sober today!!
I like this photo because, if I look at it in just the right way, I can see a roiling, fuming lake of fire beyond the trees that extends to the distant purple mountains.
–Photo by me