Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Posts tagged ‘nature’

Noel

 
Peace be with you.
Deep peace of the sky and ocean,
deep peace of the high trees and their roots
reaching for their strong holds in the earth.
Deep peace of the wind’s origin
where the voice of God whispers
the secrets of our being.
Peace to all:
brothers and sisters
two- and four-legged,
winged, finned, and furred;
to beings so small
only our maker sees them,
yet loves them as deeply
as all the other children.
Peace be with you
and in that peace find hope
for yourselves and for others
for all creation
spinning beneath the stars
in wonder and in joy.
(c) RCGA 2016earth_from_space

Fall Competition

Here is the rabbit
in the burrow
while the coyote
and the buzzard
light a fire by the door,
waving smoke and sweet talking.
“Little Rabbit, I will be kind,”
Coyote sings,
“I only want your skin, I swear.
If you give it to me now
I will go away
for the season
and come drive you out in the winter.
I hear death to cold is easy, small friend,
a simple nap to the other side.”
Buzzard chuckles.
“I am kinder,”
he croons.
“I will wait until you’re dead to eat you.
But I’ll be honest, if you come out now,
you’ll make us happy
and when you are gone
we will sing for you
songs of thanksgiving…
isn’t it tempting?”
Rabbit sighs, and lights tobacco, and sage.
“Wait, wait, brethren, until I am old and slow.
Then when I come out I won’t even run.
Until then seek some other burrow
that may find your voices pleasing.
I have enough roots to sustain me til spring.
By then you’ll be frostbitten
and your navels meeting your backbones.
So off you go, and thanks for the fire,
it keeps the wolves and foxes back,
and they tend to dig at the door.
Next time bring some sweetgrass,
maybe some cabbage, or beer.
You really need to work on your approach
when there are so many predators
competing with you.”

(c) RCGA 2016

burrowbunny

Rain Day

The humidity is high
a damp grey curtain
made of wool
that clings and weighs me down
each time I venture out

Yet the birds sing
repetitive echoes in the trees
and somewhere
a dog barks once
punctuation to the cicadas
and crickets
and small frogs calling
for rain to come

100_1173

(c) RCGA 2016

Ode to the Red Wasp in the Curtains

I hear your buzzing, and it drives me mad,
that soft, incessant humming that you do;
though you are not my enemy (I’m glad),
I’m still tempted to hit you with my shoe.
But I’m resolved to let your buzzing be
(Ha, did you catch that… bee? You are not one)
live and let live as long as there’s no stings.
You really push my human frailty
droning against my window in the sun
fabric chuffing on your beating wings.

I opened up the window for you twice
and shooed you towards it; but you clung there, staid
red body pushed against the glass, a vice
too stubborn to escape when you were bade.
What festers in that tiny brain of yours
that keeps you in, but beats against the wall,
unable to take freedom freely shown,
yet constantly seeks to be out of doors?
Wee russet warrior, you are very small
yet fierce determined, tap, and chuff, and drone.

I could just redPaperWaspcapture you and set you free
against your will into the sultry air;
but it’s become a test twixt you and me,
and giving in just doesn’t seem quite fair.
So I will sit, and listen to your hum
two feet away from a wide open door,
and contemplate the qualities of glass
and wonder what’s made my ambitions numb,
that I do not push boundaries like before,
but seek the least resistant route bypass.

(c) RCGA 2016

Spring

Green apple slices
pale and tart
seem to brace
at the sinking of teeth
releasing scents
grassy and feminine

one by one

we eat them and laugh

some element of spring
bathing and loosening
our tongues

a fresh reality
suddenly emerging
like the sun
from behind a long standing cloud

we knew it was there

but until we tasted it

we couldn’t be sure
it would return

3-19-16 (c) RCGA

A Little Night Music

Down the slope of your shoulder
is a constellation of freckles
that decorates your skin
a negative image
of a clear night sky
dark stars
and translucent pallor

I want to travel there

I want to take a journey
with my lips and hands

follow the stardust
wherever it goes

inhale the air that isn’t there
because you take it away
imploding me
too vast to contain

I will trace my itinerary
with the tip of my tongue
from one dark star
to another

I will venture
to explore you
and fill the void
with the unswallowed sounds
you will offer
music of the spheres

(c) RCGA 2015

Class

the model is poised

on the platform
robe slipping
from her shoulder

her mind is distant

from the eyes
translating her outlines
into paint and clay

her skin glows dimly

in a shaft of light
as her drape slithers down
a pool of fabric
caressing her ankles

she is elemental

planetary globes and
rolling hills
the long limbs of trees
and backs of cetaceans
calderas
deep valleys
the curve of a falling star

without moving

she moves the muses
agitating all the minds
that guide the hands
of artists
capturing her
within their creations
for just a moment
before she steps down
enrobed

she walks away

(c) RCGA 2015

"The Life Class"

“The Life Class”

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a journal of new literature

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How to embrace grief and heal

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the literary asylum

Tales of haunted hotel floors and faraway myths

Some of my short stories, draft ideas and everyday tautologies.

Kosmogonic

Submitting to the Glorious Inevitable

Arrows & Metaphors

M. Sanchez Cayuso

Inwardly Digest

Reflections and thoughts on faith, life, and the Christian Tradition

Mohn Foto

Photography

SCAeveryday

Society for Creative Anachronism Every Day of Your Life!

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Thoughts of a Park Ranger turned EMS about nurdy cool stuff!

Natchitoches Parish Journal

News, Sports and Information for Natchitoches Parish

rivrvlogr

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Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

writerchristophfischer

Books, Reviews and bookish thoughts

eBayism School of Thought

AWAKENING THE SLEEPING READERS

The Accidental Cajun

The Adventures of a Northern Boy with a Bayou Bent

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