TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Posts tagged “Landscape Photography

From Death to Life

Another rebirth


Whispers of Spring

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Spring green and faint yellow

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Sap flowing amid stone and evergreens

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A burst of red

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Cows heading past lone bare tree

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The hide-out of the Spring Peepers

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Layers of Spring texture

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Greening grass at end of day


Dying, Lying Croci

This year the Croci

may die cause they told a lie

saying it was Spring

what they said don’t mean a thing

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for Spring arrives on Friday

and what the weathermen say

this year the winter just won’t go

and they’re forecasting snow

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Phantasmagoric Love

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Out your mouth
come butterflies
fluttering all around the flowers
in the sunlight
Out of your nose
arises the scent of roses
a narcotic to the senses
And your embrace
exudes the air
of a crisp Spring day
with its smell of fresh earth
to be sown
Whilst stars fly
from your eyes
piercing mine
down to my soul
Your hair
the silky fur
of rabbit
against my skin
As your heart
beats out
a symphony
enveloped in
the aura of
scintillating sunlight
on a calm sparkling lake
I surrender to
your arms
in an eternal embrace
I am yours
in the land of forever


The Magic of Moonlight

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I miss the soft siren call

of the slinky moonlight,

the velvety voice of the moon

as she beckons to me

in the middle of the night

with her hypnotic magic

wielded in the wee hours.

I miss her enticing ways

calling forth

the howling of coyotes

echoing over the hills.

I miss the shadows

of the moonlight

as she luminates

the dark and empty road

and leaves behind a trail of shadows.

Cooped up in the city

nothing calls to me at 3AM

save little lights on

in the cubby holes

of the apartment house

across the street.

No slinky siren song sings

nor misty magic.

No coyotes howling here,

just the loud voices of drunks

stumbling home

in the harsh glare of streetlights.

“In the Hebrides of Scotland, it was common practice well into the nineteenth century for men to take off their caps to greet the morning sun and for women to bend their knee in reverence to the moon at night.  These were the lights of God.  They moved in an ancient harmony that spoke of the relationship of all things.  And they witnessed also to the eternal rhythm between the masculine energies and the feminine energies that commingle deep in the body of the universe.  The Celts were familiar also with the practice of being guided by the creatures.  The birds of the air, the fish of the sea, the animals of the earth had not lost their senses.  They were viewed as still being alive to the deepest rhythms of  creation and to the interrelationship between all things.”  (“Christ of the Celts” by J. Philip Newell)


 


Being in Winter

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How higher they be
than me
for they know how
to just Be

always

in the present
in the Silence
so profound in winter
but in the forever now

I look fearfully ahead
towards a future of endings
and losses
of attachments
acquired over the years
none more strong
than our love

I used to know

how to just be
like a tree
spontaneously
when very young
now I seek to Be
as I was in youth

in rapture
not just in nature
but always
as the sheep
in the deep
of winter.


Follow the Yellow-Lined Road

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My husband recounts a story of being a little boy riding in the backseat of his parents car and blowing kisses to the telephone polls because they looked so lonely.


Distressed Beauty

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The Lone Fir Tree

A lone fir tree

stands stalwart in a forest of red

watching over the turtles sleeping peacefully

in their hibernaculum

in the icy pond

as God

watches over us

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A silent night of peace to each of you

and a berry, merry Christmas!

Love always,

Ellen

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Christmas Blues

Dedicated to all those sick, lonely, destitute…  anyone who feels blue this time of year…
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