Passing Glance – #writephoto

Passing Glance

Passing Glance

What is the attraction of meadow flowers
to a passing hawk,
except to see them sway
and hear them rustle when there is no breeze
to make them dance?

Only then will the hawk pay those flowers
any heed, turning back
to touch them lightly as it collects the prey
that has had the misfortune of savoring
such beauty at a most inopportune moment.

This is my response to New photo prompt “Wings” and last week’s “Beginnings” round-up – #writephoto, from Sue Vincent at Daily Echo, with her photo.

writephoto

What Remains – #writephoto

What Remains

What Remains_1See me now as I am and know
that mine is not a sad story.

My life could be held
in a feather, seemingly

insignificant, but with countless
strands holding both troubled times

and the promise delivered
What Remains_2by blue skies. Dipped in ink

to spill its tales, or carried on the wind
to those who have known me,

it speaks of a life lived.
See me now and know me.

This is my response to Thursday Photo Prompt: Remains #writephoto, from Sue Vincent at Daily Echo.  Sue has provided two photos for this week’s prompt.

writephoto

Questions for a Silhouette – #writephoto

Questions for a Silhouette

Questions for a Silhouette

Do the answers to life’s
imperceptible fade
lie in your eyes?

Tell me, if you know.
On the edge of this coming
darkness, will we be reunited?

I know the night is
unending, but their presence
would be a comfort.

And those left behind
in the light, will I see them
in their darkness?

Do you know?

This is my response to Thursday Photo Prompt – Crow #writephoto, by Sue Vincent at Daily Echo, with her photo.

Holdout

Holdout_aHoldout

Moons will set, boughs
remind us of lost traces
scattered by the winds,
and you will know
your time has come.

The seasons wait for no one.

Holdout

This is my response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats: Day Eleven (each day a new Yeats quote) and Thursday photo prompt – Luna – #writephoto — Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo, with her photo.

“Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds
And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs”
W.B. Yeats

Lower image: Pincushion flower refusing to succumb to frost and drifting leaves,
Nov. 11, 2017