Category Archives: Photo/Poem Series

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Winter_Lake_Alberta.jpg
Lake in Alberta

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of the easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Thanks to the Reverend who introduced me to this poem this evening.

Classic Cat

Molly1.jpg
Molly – right here, right now and on the altar!

If you can disappear when all about you
Are madly searching for you everywhere,
And then just when they start to leave without you
Turn up as if you always were right there…
After Rudyard Kipling

Poetry for Cats: The Definitive Anthology of Distinguished Feline Verse, Henry Beard.

Thanks now to Molly and all at the Berkeley Buddhist Priory including all those who I’ve seen and spent time with during the past ten days. I was so glad to catch the Molly cat peacefully perched on an altar – waiting.

Found In The Midst

bent_over_tree1.jpg
January’s Aftermath, 2010 Mount Shasta.

Trucks pass each other on the street
Small trailer trucks, their splintered side boards
bulging with their loads;
Massive construction vehicles with steel beds
easily contain whole tree trunks
protruding into view from behind the driver’s cabin-
all and each carrying away refuse
from a winter storm that snapped tree tops,
stripped branches from their mooring
sending them through roof tops
living rooms crushing rafters
cracking foundations
or just creating craters where they landed
in snow-covered earth with such silent force
that limbs stood up like wooden matches
until they loosed and fell.

An old woman, her body propped with two canes
walks down the middle of the street
then moves to the side, making space
for passing debris trucks. She walks haltingly,
calculating tree rings from felled oaks or
identifying cones from piles of pine.
She pauses, giving homage to tangled power lines
from downed poles, and to mutilated steel stacks
from crushed car ports, once sheltering
adventure vehicles for some other season.
The woman walks softly on beds of sawdust,
listens to humming chain saws,
creating mountains of firewood
from tall timber giants lying on the ground.

hole_in_tree1.jpg

She stops at a corner; looking up, she studies
a centenarian oak. Its crown rises
above the nearest rooftop by three stories.
Splintered and broken, jagged branch stumps,
each big enough to form a single tree,
cling to the ancient trunk.
The old woman observes them, one by one:
They speak to her in some language without words,
a tongue she understands completely.
From the corner, she moves three steps
toward the East, to better see the trunk.
One side, ripped open, exposes
the tree’s heartwood core.
From outside bark to its center
the oak changes color, texture,
its light and dark reflecting
in the woman’s eyes. She knows
what it is to have a heart break open,
be exposed to storms,
to learn the sound of wind
entering a center.

There is something to be said
for gentleness.

Anna Lucas

Many thanks Anna. There is indeed something to be said for gentleness. Found in the midst.

That In-Between-Time

Eden_Valley_with_Viaduct1.jpgEden Valley – April.

Between winter and spring
When neither snow falls
Nor one bird sings

Lancaster_by_the_river1.jpgBy the river with rubbish, Lancaster

Left alone
In a silent, bare
Land of eye and ear.

Honey_suckle1.jpgHoneysuckle after rain.

Still,
A sound
A sight
Rises
Unannounced
From the up-reaching, barren
Branched trees

smiling_faced_flowers1.jpgCalw, Black Forest

Eye and Ear
Found full
Then back again
To the day
Between winter and spring.
Jacks Poem.

Present_for_Pilgrim.jpgPresents for Pilgrim

And so it is
and so it has been.
These past couple of weeks
since leaving the Eden Valley
– and that rock in the stream!

Full to brimming.
And dull dark dripping days.
Gardening, sewing,
Eating and talking.
– and passing on a tradition.

What an honour.

Thanks for your patience while I deal with many matters. Thankfully I’ve a reliable Internet connection now so posting must surely resume.