The sky beneath the stars–
shadowed by the night,
divided by itself.
always pulled away,
divided by itself,
vast and gravitating.
Always pulled away–
completely boundless ancient
vast and gravitating
Completely boundless ancient
held by threads that sail–
tides of wing and air.
Held by threads that sail,
shadowed by the night,
tides of wing and air–
the sky beneath the stars.
This collage was done originally for a Sue Vincent Photo Prompt. I’ve posted the art again, with a new poem, in celebration of the publication of Marianne Szlyk’s book, “On the Other Side of the Window”, which uses it for the cover illustration.
I was delighted when Marianne asked if she could use one of my crow pieces for her book of poems. I know her from her wonderful blog of words, art, and music, “The song is…”, and was pleased also to be able to meet her at the New York Poetry Festival on Governor’s Island a few weeks ago.
Also linked to dVerse open link night , hosted by Lillian. And yes, yet another pantoum.
Not only did Kerfe’s post inspire me, I downright copied her.
I do love owls. Here is a cute one that is now extinct.
The most famous extinct bird of all: the Dodo.
Happy 🦅 day.
Biodiversity is unprofitable. Industry is profitable.
Old growth forests are unprofitable. Deforestation is profitable. Prairies are unprofitable. Pipelines are profitable. Clean water and air are unprofitable. Manufacturing, drilling, and mining are profitable. Public lands are unprofitable. Private property is profitable.
Healthcare is unprofitable. Illness is profitable. Truth is unprofitable. Lies are profitable.
Extinction is profitable.
a silent swift swoop
The spotted owl is one of the species that will likely lose habitat if the Endangered Species Act is gutted, as those pushing development over preservation, supported by many members of Congress, and the President and his cabinet members, wish to do. We have to find a way to live that doesn’t have greed and profit as its prime motives. We are not just destroying the individual ecosystems that are homes for endangered species; we are killing the delicate balance that keeps everything on Earth alive.
Celebrate Draw-A-Bird Day by asking your leaders to do something to save our planet, so we can have more birds, not less, and a better and richer life for all.
song remains as light–
an aural after-image
reflected in green
opening the door to spring–
releasing the burdened night
I missed Draw-a-Bird Day yesterday (again!) but Colleen’s words for Tanka Tuesday were just right for a tribute to the earliest singer of my neighborhood’s dawn.
When I think
of you, I see you
iridescence like fish scales
or maybe crows’ wings,
dark and light
reflected in waves
by time. Will we meet again
on unmapped seas? or
as birds, hearts unveiled, trailing stars?
A elegy for both NaPoWriMo Day 24. The first one I wrote was quite gloomy. I took some of the images and began again.
I think the replacement was sent by the Oracle. It has her mark.
The crows have followed. The blue jays. The cardinals. Voice calling to attention as footsteps sound toward and away from doors. Penetrating closed windows and the background hum of the construction at the end of the block. Dark shadows transforming into silhouettes on bare branches not yet convinced of the imminent arrival of spring.
Where is the hawk?
new streets and sidewalks–
winter lingering, chilling–
robin’s morning song
I recently moved 10 blocks north, a whole new blank slate to fill.
People think of cities as not-nature. But the birds and trees tell me I’m home.
This one started off as a landscape. I saw a face in it and took off from there. The result is something weird but I’m posting it anyway.
I also thought it was Draw a Bird Day. Maybe that was yesterday though. Anyway here’s a Mourning Dove, one of the dumber birds to be found in my neighborhood. They make a sound that really does sound mournful. Lots of robins around lately too–a good sign.
Seeds turn into trees, eggs hatch into birds–
branches sprout new leaves, merging into birds.
Trees together stand, calling to the birds–
nourishing the land, shelter to the birds.
Roots that anchor deep, filling skies like birds–
winds that secrets keep, sailing songs like birds.
Cells divide and grow, ancestor to birds–
ebbing into flow, speaking time to birds.
Through forests dense and green, dreams scatter me into birds–
though feathers stay unseen, wings open me into birds.
It seems I missed Draw-A-Bird Day yesterday, so I’ve included them in my NaPoWriMo Day 9 post. The prompt was to relate something both large and small, and seeds and trees immediately came to mind. And so, also, birds.
The poem is sort of a ghazal. In the spirit of, anyway.