Je vois une femme
mais, je ne peut pas voir
ce qu’elle voit
(sitting alone in the garden)
I cannot
know what she feels
or is thinking
Have her thoughts been
carried up into le ciel
by a passing coccinelle, or
is she planted
firmly on the ground
dans sa chaise, lost
In the pleasure of the moment
Who knows?
No sooner had the calendar turned its page to December then God spread His blanket across the eastern half of the continent. Pre-empting deck the halls and fa-la-la, deer stayed in their thickets and geese fell silent. Caught by surprise littlejennywren darted from her berth ‘neath the boat cover and chattered incessantly at our back…
Unable to reconcile a relative of the onion growing among grape vines…
Starting at the river Abercorn charts its course through the Historic District Victorian District, into Ardsley Park where 20th century takes hold and on past bungalows of the fifties and sixties Derenne marks the break where past and present meet the world to the right across the intersection – anachronistically into the sky – rises…
August hangs heavy in the air uncomfortably cloaking all who venture outside August forced open its eyes later this morning than yesterday labored breathing hissing over soon ssooooon (I found a cicada lying silent in the street on my morning walk today) What happened to May’s sweet promise the glittering dance of June July’s sultry…
Sticky notes that framed my computer fill the waste basket – one by one – like fall’s last leaves dropping from trees (the business year is winding down) Out back little jenny-wren has taken up residence under the patio table, darting for cover when we open the door well sited near the feeder, yet nearly…
I love the sense of freedom and quiet the sights sounds and smells that I experience on an early morning walk Rabbits silently lope from spot to spot in search of breakfast an old dog greets us from well within his castle gates Occasionally someone else is also up and walking usually (like me) with…