She is listening
When the tree falls in the woods
One is there to hear
Nature sees through smoke and snow
Can life ever be alone?
***
This was written for Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. This week the challenge was an image which we were to write an Ekphrastic poem (a poem that explores art). The poem at the top of the page was provided by D.L. (Denise) Finn. I wrote a tanka.
I want to bring you back to yesterday afternoon. I had my weekly smile for this week all figured out. I had returned to New Hampshire and was running, planning the post in my head as I went. But then it changed…
I saw an animal cross the road in front of me, from one wooded area to another. It was just a black silhouette with no detail. I thought “cat”, but it was pretty big. It also moved like a wild animal. My next thought was “Fisher “, but it was taller, with longer legs. After crossing, it turned toward me (I know it saw me before) and must have decided that I was moving faster than original thought, so it ran into the woods, again not running like a domestic animal. For a half a second I though “gray fox”, though it would have been on the large side.
When I got even to were I saw the animal, I slowed and scanned the woods. The road is on a hill and it is steep where the animal went. After the initial thick underbrush, there was a small clearing at about eye level. In the small clearing was a rock and on the rock was a cat. The cat watched me as I ran slowly by. The face was the face of a wildcat, but I thought pretty small.
Later I compared the size of the face with Albert. Albert is, at 15+ lb a big cat, head and shoulders bigger than a “normal” cat. The “little” cat face I saw in the woods was about twice the size of his face. Twice Albert’s size? Maybe 30 lbs? Continue reading
Thanksgiving here in the US means a lot of different things to different people. I think that all of us need to sit back and take in one of the meanings: a time to reflect and be thankful. Sure, there’s a lot out there that seems totally awful, from barrel bombs filled with chlorine killing little kids in Syria to police under large corporation control soaking people trying to protect their water on a freezing night. Sometimes we are angry or sad, but every so often we do need to sit back and think about what we have. So today I will participate in the “Full Grown Nerd’s” (Ms. Emily) “Three Things Thursday” thankfulness linkup.
Obviously there is family. As I’ve said often in the last week, I had a good visit with my brother this weekend. I just got off the phone with my parents and will most likely talk to them again later in the day. I’ll also talk to my sisters this afternoon. I have a pretty good relationship to my family, even if I don’t see them often. I know a lot of people whose relationship to their siblings and/or parents is very dysfunctional. That is something to be thankful for. Continue reading
(Note – I wrote this in July of 2010)
“Smooth as a mill pond.” This is such an apt phrase and one of the things that makes kayaking on Powder Mill Pond so enjoyable. No matter how windy there is never more than just a ripple on the pond. With an average depth of 3 feet it is hard for even chop to develop the way it does on deeper lakes.
Powder Mill Pond is a small (419 acre) lake that straddles the line between Greenfield and Bennington, NH. There are 2 main sections divided by a very low railroad bridge crossing a narrow choke point. The main section is well over a mile long and has large expanses of open shallow water. There are several bays and inlets. The other section, which ends at the dam, is a little less than a mile and is dominated by a large island. Since the highway, Rt. 202, comes down close to the water in this second smaller section, I often just paddle a short way into it, perhaps looping around the island. Continue reading
I had a bit of a surprise when I pulled into the parking lot last Saturday. Typically the lot is empty early in the morning, and it being late September I thought I’d have the beach to myself. The lot was full.
A person was walking from the lot to the beach just in front of me. He had what appeared to be a 4 feet (1.25 m) fan strapped to his back. He turned it on and the world was filled with noise. Continue reading
Turkey Vulture
A shadow crosses my path. I look up and see the magnificent bird with its wings wider than my outstretched arms slowly spiraling above. There’s another and another. Perhaps eight birds all circling.
One splits off and quickly crosses the vast desert of the parking lot. The others spill out of their whirlpool and follow to the far edge before beginning their concentric dance once more. I never see a wing beat or flap, the feathered sails harnessing their energy from the wind. Continue reading
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