In brittling world
a tiny hermitage
with patient
weathered visage
awaits
to offer what it can
though small and rude:
walls and roof
and solitude.
Yet more thanks to photographer S.W. Berg.
Tag Archives: Harrison State Park
Disconnections: December 8.18
If Rumpelstiltskin were just a story
how came these beds of golden glory
how else explain the gilded wrap
for leaf and acorn winter nap?
Disconnections: November 30.18
The header up above
is fragment of this tree.
Photographer, you might surmise,
is puny awestruck me.
I stood in back-bowed wonder
beneath a world bedecked;
I think I have a clue
why I am so stiff-necked.
With thanks to S.W. Berg, the photographer of the photographer.
Connections: April 23.18
“Seek and ye shall find”
applies in wintry spring
seeking signs of life
yet finding not a thing —
and then low-growing star
of lavenderish-blue
evokes a constellation
glitteringly new.
Connections: April 17.18
In April
there is ache
strain of eye and soul
for the stirring
just beyond
just below
the shorn cracking brown.
Connections: September 8.17
It’s seed time
spikes and silk
nose-ticklers
piercing
dry
impatient
splinter rain
silent thunder
of change.
More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Connections: September 9.16
In browning grove
yellow supplicant petals
ziggurat of khaki and air
prayer beads
color of bitterest cocoa
a green veil
tattered
tired
falls
reverently
away.
Connections: September 7.16
Nowhere so abiding
an invitation
as here
where weathered wood
turns away
into realms of solitude.
Again thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Oddments 