Category Archives: ink as lens

Overheard

IMG_6539Garden Conversation

The deer walked tentatively into the yard
looking up at each sound
as he grazed his way across the lawn.
He came to the edge of the garden
and dipped his mouth to the daisies
tipping their faces to his shoulders.
A door slid open;
a hesitant cough sounded.
The deer gazed intently for a few minutes
then turned and left the flower bed.


eye wonder as eye wander

imageSometimes I get really lost in editing photos in Picasa.  I love to open each photo and notice where my eyes go, then try to crop and high light what was most eye catching.  I often take pictures because I’m attracted to the texture I see in front of me but when I get the pictures onto the computer other whole worlds open up.

Last weekend I wandered around my friend’s wet and cold and newly green Seattle garden.  I found old and new growth that captured my interest.  Tonight, when I loaded the pictures up and began my little eye tour, I found a secret garden, only visible when I look, and look again, and look once more.

I saw a vibrant and colorful garden and a delicately contrasting black and white garden.

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people ask me why I take so many pictures of leaves

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It is easy for me to look at a leaf
and wonder at the tenderness of its skin,
the delicate texture of its veins,
to be charmed by a youthful shoot,
nibbled edge or shy furl,
and amazed by the power to remain visible
despite weathering and decay.

I look at humans
and wonder all of the same.
But a leaf allows me to touch, turn over in my palm,
move aside for a better view, or place just so
and snap a picture
in order to preserve all I want to remember
embodied in one precious leaf.
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sol


dust bunnies

she was supposed to be gone hours ago

early this morning she telephoned to ask if we’d take care of her cat –
she was headed south to be with her dad who was coming out of hospital

her sister would be joining her to do some research into “facilitities”

“too soon,” says dad

this was the conversation we had midday on the stairs
she was taking her trash out, purple cleaning gloves on her hands

she was supposed to be gone hours ago

but now in late afternoon I hear vacuuming upstairs, every single room

cleaning dust bunnies from every nook and cranny is easier than difficult conversations


Stance

Thinking about stance – more than just posture, but surely a way of being.image

 


one walk to remember November

 

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November is light and color: reflecting, piercing through, glowing on tree tops, casting shadows.

 

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November is dramatic skies – blue or dark slate – either way, they look amazing behind butterscotch tinted tree tops.

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November is frost and a little sheen of ice on puddles.

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November is the river flooding and receding.

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November is afternoon sunlight that seems to burn in a spiral through the bare-limbed trees, finding you no matter where you are.

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November is the moon appearing to chase the sun from the sky.

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November is quiet, stillness in twilight, cold.


Idaho Lullaby

Follow me
over there
where a red ball is falling
through a seamless sky
towards land and lake
darkening
harkening
nightfall.

Walk with me
here
where shadows sweep the dust of day
across a widening pool of moonlight
glowing
stowing
dreams.

Lie down in the coolness
beside me
beneath tall pines whispering
the darkness absolute
sleeping
keeping
watch.