“Frost grows on the window glass,
forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry.
Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition.
Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath’s vapor.
In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . .
But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.”
― vera nazarian, the perpetual calendar of inspiration
“i simply do not distinguish between work and play.”
r.i.p. mary oliver, one of my favorite poets – i agree.
image credit: alice boughton,
Teachers and kindergarten students
Warm-toned Gelatin Silver Print unmounted 1910 USA
of a piece of summer’s art –
when crossing paths
with a melted ice cream heart.
“besides being a useful adjunct to courtship,
ice-cream is often employed to feed poets upon.”
~”A Few Casual Remarks on Ice-Cream,” Puck, 1881
‘breathe in experience, breathe out poetry’ – muriel rukeyser
in honor of national poetry day
image credit: nationalgeographic.com
The moment when,
after many years
of hard work
and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
I own this,
is the same moment
when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can’t breathe.
No, they whisper.
You own nothing.
You were a visitor,
time after time
climbing the hill,
planting the flag,
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
image credit: along the kerry way – ireland http://leiraenkai.deviantart.com
poetry credit: margaret atwood