Showing posts with label creating time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creating time. Show all posts

Saturday, September 5, 2015

A Popsickle Day

Once upon a time, long before now,
When the grass was as green as a lollypop~
Off we went down the sidewalk edge,
looking for a piece of eternity.

It was a popsicle day,
With trees saturated in summer~
Sidewalks so hot you needed shoes,
You could fry an egg if you wanted, they said.

We were warned of course, about crossing the street,
We were threatened, coerced and cautioned~
Of course we crossed it anyway,
As we scattered away that diamond day.


Tuesday, January 14, 2014

The Act of Loving

Sneaking out the beauty in the stumbling places
Seeing bright red brick under the tarnished  episodes
Knowing for once the people underneath the rubble
Unearthing the best in show.

under the tracks 20120821-DSC_1798.jpg
Just below Park Avenue & 97th Street

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

While Minding My Own Business,

I was traveling along in my mind the other day, searching for a random thought about a certain something, when I came across an outcrop. Not in my mind, no, but an actual outcrop from a hill.
Sitting on the outcrop, believe it or not, was a small practically transparent Pherosa. It may seem odd, since there are so few Pherosas around, but when you see an unusual something sitting on an outcrop that is practically transparent, well. That is exactly what will come to mind.
“Can I help you?” It said, and come to think of it I did need a little help with a lot of things. For one, I was concerned about what to do with the rest of my life, and so I asked its name. “Pherosina", said the Pherosa. "Rosey for short.”
 “Do you ever wonder what life is all about?” I asked.
“Not since I gave up wondering about death”, said Rosey.

I had a leaf last year, a leaf on a tiny stem, born that spring, it was a wrinkled little thing (said Rosey). It spread itself and found its lobes and oh how green it was! Shinny and dark, soft and powdery along the bottom veins.
  That small red stem became a lanyard in the stormy weather and winds, holding on to its barky root -- Oh, what a leaf!  It caught a bug or two, but leaf was a gracious soul and didn’t mind the necessary wear and tear.
  Leaf seemed to sere a little in the hot dog days, but then it blazed again in early crimson!
 Then one day almost like the day before, my leaf let go of its life. My Beautiful leaf! Deep maroon and scarlety orange, it folded and fluttered down, turning, falling --
 What happened then I cannot say. It caught itself in a circling wind and whooshed away as if it never was. Although I may have seen it floating in a puddle; I couldn’t tell for sure.

“Sit here a minute”, Rosey said, and I sat down beside. Or maybe more or less beside, since Pherosas merge a lot with those beside them.
 “Well I don’t know what to say”, I said.
 “I had to let it go”, said Pherosina. “I almost missed the stark dry days that year, the smell of pine and needle greens, the snowy mittens and new days of winter fighting for light.
 Besides I know that all things have a new beginning, even though I don’t know how they do it.”

A Semblance of Rosey

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Of Coming and Going and Reserection

I once was a flower of spirit & elan
I can’t remember when
I was part of a cluster of beauty you see
But I didn’t see it then
I think I had a sweet bouquet
But I can’t remember when
My beauty faded, like it does
I regret it now and then
I lost my petals and fell to the ground
I’m not sure what happened then
Somehow this summer I came back again
But I can’t remember when!

Snowball bush in the Secret Garden -- 2013

Mission for the day:
1. Select a time when you should be doing something else
2. Breath deeply. In......Out. Iiiiiiinnnnn..... Out...
3. Picture a clock in your mind.

(how many of you pictured an alarm clock with a bell on top?)

4. Now think: Tick! jump! Tock! jump! Tick! jump! Tock!!
5. Finally, recall the quiet, sweeping second hands of old...... tiiccckkkktocccckkktiiccckkkktocccckkk

May you be blessed sweeping petals and slowly changing things, ( was a bloom with esprit and élan,)

Friday, January 18, 2013

Taking the Second Chance

There’s a time that comes every once in a while,
I know about it; I’ve seen it before, and I bet you know it as well--
that scape without a sea or a land to anchor its astral position.

I heard it said the other day,
that intellect and feeling live in separate domains,
and yet now and then a remnant escapes
from the past  to rattle today.

I know a brainstorm comes now and then,
but who cares, and so what? It's polite as can be,
It knocks before it comes in!
But an emotional scrap, now that does distract!
It mews and it pants with a wish and a bounce,
dribbling, careening, and trouncing
right over our sane conversation!

It was then that I knew how I longed for that day, 
the one that I thought I had lost..
A crumpled up day tossed away in the rain,
a puddle I barely remember.

What happens then, when you watch the same scape
 a hundred times over again,
without  land or a sea or a shore that remains

of our permanent link in that destiny chain.
Central Park Reservoir

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Life Intersections

We were drugged and dragging then, through a snow-topped mountain, grey and tawny black, thoughts racing, focused a long way back.  Punch, punch, through the crust-topped snow. No skiing today, not with this rocky sun-smeared frozen icy covered trail.

Ice breath hanging in the dry air;  wind cutting down the canyons.

It was the spring thaw that brought us to a new life, forlorn among the daisies. I could not control the sneaky destiny,  harpoon impaling in my chest; your  blood-soaked heart caught the other end, shaking and surviving, throwing back an anchor line.  We were too weak, too meek, too unforeseen, too resonant to disambiguate the situation.  And what to do with all that slack that only tightens when we walk away?

 Letting go;  fingers soaked in pain-stained history;

There was the cornbread life, baked in a round pan, brown edged in the afternoon, pulling away from the iron rim on the wood baked stove.  At the cottage backyard doorway, there you are.  I don’t remember when the red-stained earth cut us apart, or when the green salamander told the future, or when the frost first touched your beard.

Farther away in the caves of France we had a hardy life.  Not so quiet as I am now, not quite so gentle; life was harder.  Then I heard we had a mountain life, with a pine forest, snow falling on the silver-studded carriage with the horse.

Warm breath hanging in the snow-flaked air;   bear rug.

Is there a way to find the thread, to sew new life together?  A complicated sheaf of ropey dreams, threads weaving between us, warping through the woof of time. 

Air soft with pollen in the dandelion wind;   petals hanging everywhere.

20091121-for blog multiple livesiphoneCrestone 002.jpg

Sunday, December 23, 2012

A Moment of Quiet

Screeching and crashing
Fast^ Buy@ Sell# Now%
Substitution Satisfaction
Buying time for beauty
Prying out a life

20121225-pond in rural westminster colorado.jpg
Rural Denver 2012

Friday, October 26, 2012

Autumn Rose

 Just in time, 
it's Autumn Rose's turn

Conservancy Garden Roses in Late October

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Is it too Late to Fall in love Again?

I saw the coolness come before I heard it;
a small thinning in the sound,
a sight cut along the edges. 
I could almost trace the tiny modulation
back to its beginning, with that slithered criticism,
and that red tongue snapping at the skin.
Is there still time to double back along the  harvest path? 

Dusk below the conservancy gardens

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Monday, July 9, 2012

Thursday, July 5, 2012


When there’s only a streak or two left from the settling sun,
when only dusk and grain remain from the contrasting blue,
then dark green shadows burrow into the soul,
where even love escapes from destiny