There is nothing else than now. There is neither yesterday, certainly, nor is there any tomorrow. How old must you be before you know that?
— Ernest Hemingway (For Whom the Bell Tolls,1940)
cocooned in green light
I am nowhere but right here
dappled by these trees
Central Park right now is green, green, green.
Jade at dVerse asked us to choose one of the Hemingway quotes she provided and write a poem in response. I shortened the quote for my short response.
And because it’s Thursday, I’m including some firehouse doors from new and old neighborhoods. Firefighters are very much aware of the nowness of life.
Although I think you could make the case for doors in the Central Park photos as well…
Your can add your own doors and see many others at Thursday Doors.
long green days
open like roses
like fresh dreams
into clear blue skies
That’s my hope for June anyway.
sheer and continuous
sparkled currents rising
A badger’s hexastitch for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt, the photo by Trent McDonald, below.
Trent’s photo made me think of all of Sue Vincent’s photo prompts, and all the watercolor mandalas I painted in response to her images. Thanks, Trent, for the equally magical landscape.
This badger’s hexastitch has a very cinquain-like feel to me–not intentional, but I think it works.
It’s Thursday, so I’ll start with the door. My daughters took me to the NY Botanical Garden for Mother’s Day last Sunday. One week late–it was sold out for actual Mother’s Day. We remembered the Rock Garden from a very cold autumn day when we visited a few years ago and this was the only warmish place.
There were still pockets of flowers to be seen, but the overall impression was very green. We’ve had a lot of rain.
Water is part of the landscape throughout the garden.
And, of course, rocks.
Irises were still blooming.
Every view was inviting.
I have many more photos–flowers, trees, art–but the only door in them was to the Rock Garden. I’ll save those for another post. I did not get any good photos of the many birds, though I tried. Robins everywhere, blue jays, sparrows, mourning doves, red-winged blackbirds, finches, a hawk, even a blue heron. And many bird calls I did not recognize.
And a visit to the Bronx! The farthest I’ve been in 18 months. It felt good.
Join Thursday Doors here: https://nofacilities.com/2021/05/20/dr-seuss-museum/
It’s May! I haven’t done any artwork for a month, having used art from the archives for my April NaPoWriMo posts at kblog. So it felt good yesterday to ignore the moving boxes and pull out my watercolors and paint. I did two paintings, below–a landscape and some impressionistic flowers.
I then cut them into one inch strips and wove them together for my grid. I also did some further experiments, cutting some of the strips into one inch squares and arranging them in different ways. But that’s for another day with more time to think.
The moon visited me at dawn yesterday. It was dancing with the clouds. The Oracle managed to insert it into my May verse. Well we know how She feels about the moon.
wild winds grow full
listen to Maysongs
birds seeding spring air
with gardens rooted deep
in the fertile paths
that follow the wandering moon
remnants of autumn bending
landscapes into dreams
beneath winter’s frost
ancient stonesongs murmur
from seed to spring
haiku and gogyohka from the Oracle
condensed into light–
gold tinged with tides,
rising and falling
I did a similar grid with circles a few years ago, but I’ve always wanted to give it another try. As with the last one, I first painted a landscape (wishing I had my gouache, but done with watercolor), then cut it up, rearranged it, and added collage dots from my collage box. Here’s the original landscape:
David Hockney-ish I think. Not my usual style, and perhaps a bit brighter than I intended. But I like the colors.
I’ve done a tanka for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday form challenge, which also works for Frank Tassone’s challenge of harvest moon. The paint oracle is totally responsible for turning my moon painting into a tree.
My new view of the full moon. I have to catch it when it passes between the buildings.
we were when
I stand alone surrounded by distances, covered with a vast blue, green layered behind and below. I have come to the precipice to find my place in the landscape. I intended to bring beautiful words, to leave poetic gifts as tokens on the wind, to tie threads of song to the sky.
But I find nothing more is required of me than to be here, present, alive.
to the earth
For Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday, a haibun inspired by the photo provided by Frank Tassone, above.
I’ve had this song on my mind for awhile.
also linked to earthweal open link weekend