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~ Reflections on Beauty

Satin & Sand

Tag Archives: Poetry

Beautiful Taking Flight…

19 Sunday Mar 2023

Posted by Satin & Sand in Art, Art studio, Birds, Home, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor

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Art, Beauty, Bernard E. Harris, Bird, Bird flight, Grosbeak, Poetry, watercolor

© Joan Currie – Detail of my watercolor of a Grosbeak

When a bird, takes flight
Wings, sail on air
Silhouettes of time
Upon clouds, inspire
No height, inconceivable
Nor dream, unreachable
Fear, no longer, an obstacle
Hunger, no more, high I soar
Tears retreat, from, the earths floor
The sky, stretches out, its arms and opens its door
from A Bird Takes Flight by Bernard E. Harris

After months of contemplation, I awoke this morning and knew it was time to move. Although I haven’t settled on the exact location for my new home, I am ready to take flight!

Beautiful Pre Springtime Starlings…

24 Friday Feb 2023

Posted by Satin & Sand in Art, Birds, Garden, Nature, Poetry, watercolor

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Art, beautiful, Birds, Crabapples, John Heath-Stubbs, Nature, Poetry, Starling, watercolor

© Joan Currie – Starlings from my sketchbook.

The starling is my darling, although
I don’t much approve of its
Habits. Proletarian bird,
Nesting in holes and corners, making a mess,
And sometimes dropping its eggs
Just any old where – on the front lawn, for instance.

It thinks it can sing too. In springtime
They are on every rooftop, or high bough,
Or telegraph pole, blithering away
Discords, with cliches picked up
From the other melodists…

From The Starling by John Heath-Stubbs

Despite the snap of cold weather, the starlings were out in full force today perched on the branches of crabapple trees – mostly hidden by the burgeoning pink blossoms. It seemed as if they were rehearsing a mixture of musical numbers and squeaky songs for a springtime premiere. They put a smile on my face!

© Joan Currie – Crabapple blossoms from my sketchbook.

Beautiful Bird Nests…

27 Friday Jan 2023

Posted by Satin & Sand in Birds, Garden, Photography, Reflections, watercolor

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Birds, Photography, Poetry, watercolor

© Joan Currie – One of the bird nests I found in my back yard.

Birds’ Nests by John Clare

How fresh the air, the birds how busy now!
In every walk if I peep I find
Nests newly made or finished all and lined
With hair and thistledown, and in the bough
Of little hawthorn, huddled up in green,
The leaves still thickening as the springs gets age,
The pink’s, quite round and snug and closely laid,
And linnet’s of materials loose and rough;
And still hedge-sparrow, moping in the shade
Near the hedge-bottom, weaves of homely stuff,
Dead grass and mosses green, an hermitage,
For secrecy and shelter rightly made;
And beautiful it is to walk beside
The lands and hedges where their homes abide.


When doing my yard work today, I discovered two enchanting nests in the garden and hedge. I love that the very inner layers are filled with small down feathers and soft grasses, and, surprisingly, small pieces of cording that I recognize as coming from my clothesline!

© Joan Currie – My garden Tree Sparrow

Thoughts of Love…

07 Sunday Feb 2021

Posted by Satin & Sand in Photography, Relationships

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Beauty, Lauren DiMarco, Love, Poetry, Sonnet XXVII

© Lauren DiMarco

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired:
For then my thoughts–from far where I abide–
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,

Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Sonnet XXVII by William Shakespeare

In that wonderful place between wakefulness and sleep, I think of you.

Model: Lauren DiMarco

Winter solstice…

21 Monday Dec 2020

Posted by Satin & Sand in Photography

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Hope, Poetry, Susan Cooper, Syracuse, WInter Solstice

© David Dodds


The Shortest Day
And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, reveling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us — listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.

by Susan Cooper
The Shortest Day book

There is something magical about the winter solstice. It is a time to celebrate! Despite all the woes of this last year, we have made it through to its shortest day and can now look forward to longer, lighter, and dare to hope for, better days ahead!

After 800 years, The Great Conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter can be seen again tonight after sunset.

A snapshot of the day….

07 Wednesday Oct 2020

Posted by Satin & Sand in Design, Fashion, Photography, Reflections, Writing

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Happiness, Jane Kenyon, Photography, Poetry

© James Currie

There’s just no accounting for happiness
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
from Happiness by Jane Kenyon

It was a day of happiness and it was wonderful!

Another spring…

20 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by Satin & Sand in Photography, Reflections, Writing

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Bird nest, Christina Rossetti, Nest, Poetry, Spring, Victorian poetry

Spring Nest by Joan Currie

Spring Nest © Joan Currie

Another Spring
If I might see another Spring,
I’d not plant summer flowers and wait:
I’d have my crocuses at once,
My leafless pink mezereons,
My chill-veined snow-drops, choicer yet
My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.

If I might see another Spring
I’d listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
I’d listen to the lusty herds,
The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I’d find out music in the hail
And all the winds that blow.

If I might see another Spring –
Oh stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in “if” –
If I might see another Spring,
I’d laugh to-day, to-day is brief;
I would not wait for anything:
I’d use to-day that cannot last,
Be glad to-day and sing.

By Christina Rossetti

Savoring the signs of spring…

You, on the other side…

21 Saturday Dec 2013

Posted by Satin & Sand in Art, Reflections, Relationships, Writing

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Art, Grieving, Loss of loved one, Memories, Mixed media, Poetry, Remembering, Woman with Roses

Lauren in Joshua Tree

Lauren DiMarco at Joshua Tree

 Still Too Sharp
by Joan Currie

My memories of you are like shards of glass, 
they have to be handled very carefully.
Fearing that if I were to sustain a wound,
the bleeding would never stop…

A life worth living…

16 Friday Aug 2013

Posted by Satin & Sand in Aging, Art, Design, Garden, Reflections

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Alfred Austin, Art, Charcoal sketch, Poetry, Summer, Youth

Joan Currie Iris

African White Iris © Joan Currie

When Summer, lingering half-forlorn,
On Autumn loves to lean,
And fields of slowly yellowing corn
Are girt by woods still green;
When hazel-nuts wax brown and plump,
And apples rosy-red,
And the owlet hoots from hollow stump,
And the dormouse makes its bed;
from Is Life Worth Living? – by Alfred Austin

This poem brought me back to the delicious summers of my childhood…

RP-T-1948-88

A lasting fragrance…

07 Wednesday Aug 2013

Posted by Satin & Sand in Aging, Art, Fashion, Photography, Reflections, Relationships, Writing

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Aging, Fashion, Lauren DiMarco, Longfellow, Photography, Poetry, Time

Party dress by Joan Currie

Party dress @ Joan Currie

Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!

from It Is Not Always May by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sometimes it is hard not to lament the passing of time…

Getty image

Getty image

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