TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Posts tagged “Deer

My Cathedral

The wilderness
is my cathedral
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The sky
my steeple
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 The trees
my buttresses
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Hay bales
my statuary
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 Flowers
my stained glass
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A babbling brook
my organ
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Frogs and toads
my choir
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Fields of wildflowers
my incense
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 Thunder storms
my high mass
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A very diverse congregation…

From cows

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to snails and turtles

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to gazillions
of insects

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030 (3)

Deer sometimes come round

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Butterflies abound

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Moths, too

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Birds of every hue

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All that’s missing is you

but you worship your own way

doing charity every day

more than I can say


New Life, Old Love

 

 

Tree skeletons

acquire accoutrements

each passing day

pale green regalia

not the deep green

of Summer when the

change in color

is so gradual

as to be imperceptible

nor the fleeting riot

of color of Fall

no, in Spring,

ephemeral  evanescent

slight light green

appears by the moment

right before my slow eyes

as I discern

shadows in the woods

a flash of white tail

deer fleet of foot

fly through the brush

dancing to the deep trill

of the wood frogs and

the echoing, haunted cries

of pileated woodpeckers

in the sudden density

of the fast-growing woods

inside the booming forest

whilst where I sit

at the edge of wood

bumble bees hum

and magically lift off

the teaming ground

and fly to the sky

where birds sing to mates

sweet songs of desire

in a crescendo of new life

as you have sung to me

for nearly thirty years

in an ever-changing

ever-growing love

whilst a breeze caresses

a newborn leaf

that tingles to its touch

as I thrill so very much

to the searching clasp

of your hand in mine

(As yet another killer, this time on the campus of Santa Barbara, California,  is identified as possibly having Asperger’s syndrome, I, as a Bipolar Aspie, offer this poem written to my Aspie husband for May 14, 2014, on the occasion of our 25th wedding anniversary, to show that not all people with Asperger’s reach for a gun and are violent.)


March Sunrise to Sunset

A tribute to my beloved brother, Tony, who loved this song.


Snow-Doe

This “tres sensible,” furry doe appeared in our backyard one morning, showing no fear of us as we went about our activities.  It pains me that Vassar College has hired hunters to feed deer, luring them to their death for mercenary gain in some non-sensical culling.  As if hunting season weren’t bad enough.  My heart sank for this fearless doe, unafraid of us.  She must learn to be afraid of humans because humans are cold-hearted killers, hiding under the guise of sportsmanship and pest control.  What kind of sport is this to entice deer to an area using food as bait and then, when trust is established, shooting them?  It makes me ashamed of the human race.   Issac Bashevis Singer, who fled the Nazis himself, and whose mother and brother were killed in the Camps, writes most eloquently on the subject in his ode to a mouse:

What do they know—all these scholars, all these philosophers, all the leaders of the world—about such as you? They have convinced themselves that man, the worst transgressor of all the species, is the crown of creation. All other creatures were created merely to provide him with food, pelts, to be tormented, exterminated. In relation to them, all people are Nazis; for the animals it is an eternal Treblinka.”

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