Blog
Search the Blog
Categories
- 4th of July
- American flag
- Arizona
- Attenborough
- Bells of the Cascades
- Boy Scouts
- Budapest
- COVID
- COVID brain
- Characters
- Danube River
- Eagle Scout
- Eskimo
- European cities
- European streets
- Family
- Germany
- Good Friday
- Great Depression
- Italy
- Mailchimp
- Matthew Compton
- Mexico
- Mt. Hood
- Nature
- Nature poem
- Nature poems
- Nature's wildfires
- Nevada
- Northern Lights
- Olympics
- Oregon
- Pacific coast
- Poems
- Portland
- Recipe
- Relationships
- Research
- Rome
- Russia
- The Avocet
- Trillium Lake
- Turkey
- Venice glass
- Viking cruise
- WW II
- Writers in the Grove
- Writing
- abandoned
- absence of light
winter sea gray
comment from Eileen gives author hope
haiku
winter sea gray, not
with malice but upheaval
renewing for spring
super blue
very early this morning
the moon near its zenith
was still brilliant white
and commanding
joyous for me pondering
the music of the spheres
it must hear even stooping
this close to earth
yellow jacket trap
yellow jacket trap
sick awe as i watch the yellow jacket
trap odor lure a dozen frenzied insects
joined soon by hundreds aggressively
swarming the plastic tube unable
for an hour and more to find entrance
i go on to church, praying
for insight into the confusion we call life
returning, i retch at the increased frenzy
of the swarm at my back porch
fifty, one hundred have found their way
in but cannot get out and are trampled
by crazed newcomers and more newly
trapped walking on their bodies
climbing the plastic walls only to fall
back onto the black mass, only some
of which is struggling
and still more come
and more
grateful, fascinated, i stare
sickened, i turn away
through august
gentle rain, hardly more than mist
but it may be enough to give hope
that the far-flung
rhodies will make it through august
Include more text here to close out the blog, or just delete this box.
momentary brilliance
although i hear no thunder, lightning rips
through night’s darkness everyseveral minutes
not as a slash, but lighting the sky
in momentary brilliance too fleeting to convey
to our measured minds the secrets of our world
i cannot fight them
i cannot fight them
there are too many
and they are angry
always aware
quick to explore my coming
aggressive in defining danger
to themselves, to their colony
we poor humans
believe we rule the world
but there are gazillion more
insects
some armed with stingers
Include more text here to close out the blog, or just delete this box.
wildfire evacuation
car packed to take oldest
to camp when notifie
of level 3 evacuation
“We need to go – now!”
the two smaller boys climbed in
and they drove off, coming
west to us without preparation
without clothes, without albums
or vital papers or anything
they would not have wanted
to leave behind
if climate change is a hoax
it is well devised to create
wilder, more uncontrollable
scenes of devastation
if it is, instead, the result of human
stupidity, arrogance and greed
perhaps we can use wisdom
humbleness and far-sightedness
to bring our world back toward balance
momentary
tall osprey fledglings now
two slender necks and shoulders
show above the rim of the bulky nest
stoic, stalwart male on the bar above
keeping watch, waiting
that momentous time is soon
when one or both young
will spread enormous wings
to swoop or fall as parents,
helpless to aid, look on
i can only wonder if in hope.
wing spread
fledgling osprey chick
rises to a stand in nest
high atop utility pole
shudders, then lifts out
impossibly long wings
far to the sides of its slender body
raises them to shoulder level
only slightly bent at each elbow
wanting something but barely
contemplating the thrill or demand
of flight
renewal of waves
renewal of the waves
one after another, after another
stretching up, cresting, breaking
in air-pale foam, pounding, spreading
reaching on shore
receding and gathering again
carrying elements of one world
to another, again and again
speaking an ageless language
of perseverance and near-imperceptible
change over time
by the Pacific
dozens of people on the sand
walking, standing looking out
pondering the expanse of ocean
each feeling alone
caught in time
an infinitesimal part
of a greatness no one
can comprehend
taste of abundance
drink the wind
swallow gulps of snow
test the grit of sunflower
marvel at the texture of honeycomb
stick out your tongue to catch rain
taste generous Nature
then revel, appreciate, cherish
work to protect
drizzle shower
gentle drops, arriving individually
one-by-one, welcome
dot-dot-dotting the windshield
until my car picked up speed
down our steep Ihrig Road
splats now, group onslaught
across the width of the window
warranting wipers turned on
at least on delay
Stringtown Road asphalt blackened
nursery plants perking
maple leaves less dusty
soil between vast rows richer brown
mama osprey straddling her chicks
in the nest to feed them
as though providing shelter
as well as sustenance
osprey chicks
scrubby osprey chicks
now tall enough to peer
over the edge of the nest
at the traffic on Ritchie Road
and the man with awe in his eyes
and a camera
but their gaze is not for mere humans
they are waiting for a parent
with food
tiny plea
tiny white butterfly flittered
near like an asterisk calling
attention to itself. ‘Here I am,”
it seemed to whisper, ‘perishing
in this early summer sun. I don’t
have dark blues or blacks
or large, wide-spread wings
that would help me cool myself.
Your global warming is killing me
and so many others. Please, please
tell your others to change
how you use our earth and air.’
dark of night
the ‘great white way’
was once the Milky Way
pondered by shepherds
their musings giving connection
to vastness above and beyond self
millennia before angels brought
‘tidings of great joy’
‘dark of night’
now conquered by fear-induced
electric lanterns that blind us
to that experience of belonging
to our universe and hasten
our separation from it
in our small fears
we conquer ourselves
not obliged
too much haze
too little flare
the northern lights
did not live up to predictions
or, rather, the predictions
were hopes and dreams
and gave the erupting sun
no sense of obligation
to fulfill them
turquoise at the NW horizon
turquoise at the northwest horizon
remained so long, i had hope
watched, dreaming up movement
slithering colors that were not there
simply sunset clinging
to the foothills and pines
rather than a night early for promised Aurora Borealis but still beauty
beyond all the watercolor and pastel
i have ever lovingly spread on paper