My online journal sharing interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, bicycling, spirituality and asking deep questions.
The new day’s light
ms
veiled behind gray clouds.
A crisp morning air caressing my soul
as I listen to nature’s silence.
A meadowlark perches on a rabbit brush,
near the water’s edge, near its nest.
Six pelicans take to the air
circling the reservoir then fly north.
A cottontail ventures from safety
to nibble on blades of grass.
Nature is comfortable with silence,
much more than man.
How easily I forget
to listen to nature’s silence.
Have a wonderful Sunday!
Not quite four a.m., when the rapture of being alive
Mary Oliver, her poem The Loon from What Do I know?
strikes me from sleep, and I rise
from the comfortable bed and go
to another room, where my books are lined up
in their neat and colorful rows. How
magical they are! I choose one
and open it. Soon
I have wandered in over the waves of the words
to the temple of thought.
And then I hear
outside, over the actual waves, the small,
perfect voice of the loon. He is also awake,
and with his heavy head uplifted he calls out
to the fading moon, to the pink flush
swelling in the east that, soon,
will become the long, reasonable day.
Inside the house
it is still dark, except for the pool of lamplight
in which I am sitting.
I do not close the book.
Neither, for a long while, do I read on.
cobalt blue and tawny
ms
perched atop wire throne
whistling for a mate
It was an overcast morning and cool. There was no need for a coat, my fleece would do fine. I slept well and felt refreshed. On most mornings I usually start my day by asking and relying on my intuition. Do I want to head to a natural area and all that it has to offer or do I head to a coffee shop and all it has to offer. This is a gift of retirement. After quiet time my intuition lead me to a local coffee shop. I was not disappointed as my barista, Devan, brightened my day with her latte art. Of course a photo needed to be taken followed by my feeble attempts to write about it.
crafted with frothed milk
ms
a work of art now created
no longer just a latte
the sense of taste awakens
as the visual sense is transformed
when lips touch the cups rim
now sharing this experience
as a written memory in the journal
… and with you
new poetry book
ms
words offered to the soul
old chipped saucer
Bright sunny morning here in Colorado. It’s 51 degrees but the 7 mph breeze makes it feel cold to me. Coffee time and writing at Bean Cycle. Reading a book from a new-to-me poet called named Ted Kooser and his book called Delights and Shadows. Meet up and catch up with friends later today. I live a simple life but full.
looking out across the meadow
ms
my mind restless and troubled
seeking the quieting of my spirit.
as the sun sets over the mountains
nature empties herself completely
finding the quieting of my spirit.
This simple poem was inspired by one of Mary Oliver’s poems. She spent time in nature on an almost daily basis which is motivating me to do the same. At times I feel regret for those times I could have spent in nature. I wonder if time in nature inspires me to write or if my writing inspires me to spend more time in nature. Have a great day!!
P.S. We have water falling from the sky. People are telling me it’s called rain. ☔
Meadowlark, when you sing it’s as if
Mary Oliver, Meadowlark Sings and I Greet Him In Return
you lay your yellow breast upon mine and say
hello, hello, and are we not
of one family, in our delight of life?
You sing, I listen.
Both are necessary
if the world is to continue going around
night-heavy then light–laden, though not
everyone knows this or at least
not yet,
or, perhaps, has forgotten it
in the torn fields,
in the terrible debris of progress.
We need rain. So far for the month of April we have .1 inch of rain. Dixon Reservoir is really low at Pineridge Natural Area. As I watch the sun rise four mule deer graze before me. And, the meadowlarks sing and I listen.