Cazadero Beauty

Cazadero Beauty

Gently touching a madrone,
marvel at the beauty of its skin.

Follow trails through meadow and wood
to find works of art at every turn,
flowers that mirror the beauty of this place,
living in harmony with nature.

Follow the line of tracks left by wheels
that lumbered through here decades ago
and find a yurt sheltered beneath
the grand canopy of its surroundings.

Sit within a natural amphitheater of stone
that has heard lines of poetry
and seen the smiles of children.

Lie in the forgiving moss
that carpets a stone outcropping.

Witness a massive oak
embracing a giant granite boulder,
a marriage for the ages.

Kneeling before mighty redwoods,
shed tears of joy at their majesty.

Look down into a valley of green
and know that a river rushes
through its depths to the sea.

Feel the warmth of candlelight,
the late evening sun filtered through the forest.

Experience all of this on the land,
Cazadero’s gift as envisioned by a true artist.

 

This poem is my second response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #518.

landcarpetslinedownkneelingtearsflowers
latewheelslivingtouchingcandlelight

Cazadero Nature and Art Conservancy – owned by Margaret Fabrizio and known as The Land – is a 40 acre property in Sonoma County dedicated to the preservation and respectful honoring of natural habitat with non-invasive art works. Pictures of the art installations can be seen here, and the buildings here.

My other Cazadero poems can be found here.

On a Wing and a Prayer ~ flash fiction

On a Wing and a Prayer

Touching down at the end of the runway in a maneuver too late to provide a safe landing, the wheels of the airplane chirp and skid before continuing on a line that tears a path through a carpet of tall grass and wild flowers, leaving a scar on the land. One after another, the members of a missionary contingent slide down the emergency exit and gather in a small circle where they drop to the ground, kneeling.  They produce votives, each from a breast pocket, and pray by candlelight, thankful that they are among the living.

 

This foolish bit of flash fiction is my response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #518.

landcarpetslinedownkneelingtearsflowers
latewheelslivingtouchingcandlelight

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The Flight of Swallows

The Flight of Swallows

With no cooling breeze on a hot summer day,
I trail my paddle to direct my kayak
’round the bend to the middle of the narrow river
and a bridge that offers welcome shade
from the sun, now directly overhead.

Sunlight glances from my approaching waves
to shimmer on mud nests crowded together
on the beams beneath the bridge. Swallows fly
in the sunlight ahead as I rest for a moment,
amused by their aerial acrobatics.

Like needles that weave through currents of air,
they pass each other a mere breath apart,
wing never touching wing, a simple matter
for them, while this humble viewer is
content to be carried by the river’s current.

Continuing on, I pass beneath and among them
as they dart back and forth in a feeding frenzy.
A short while later, I turn upstream and watch them
once more before continuing home, hopeful
that I might weave words of their flight onto paper.

This poem is my response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #513.

needlesbreathrivertouchswallowssummer
    humblepaperbendsimplebeamscrowd

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keying the senses

keying the senses_wordlekeying the senses

no wicked pleasure,
your hand touching mine

my world rocked,
shocked, sounds & shots

of light shining through glass
crystals, a sugar high

with permanence, all
else a game, fleeting,

overshadowed by
the fantastic keying the senses

This poem is my response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #505. The key words are in bold, below.

keying the senses

keying the senses_wordle_ano wicked pleasure,
your hand touching mine

my world rocked,
shocked, sounds & shots

of light shining through glass
crystals, a sugar high

with permanence, all
else a game, fleeting,

overshadowed by
the fantastic keying the senses