In shadows cast by judgment’s weight, I find myself, a bird, sedate. Dreams clipped by critical gaze, An anchor, heavy, in life’s maze.
Each flight of joy, a tentative dance, Held back by words, a stifling trance. But deep within, a yearning stirs, For freedom’s song, no longer deferred.
To cut the chains, to break away, From mainstays holding, day by day. To soar anew, with wings unfurled, Towards dreams embraced, in a boundless world.
So let me sever, let me fly, Bid farewell to judgement’s sigh. For in the vastness of the sky, I’ll find my joy, no longer shy.
Today I noticed that the birds are back in my yard. Spring has come once again!
On Valentine’s Day, the world may sway, With roses and hearts on display. But true love blooms in everyday, In acts of kindness, come what may.
Not in grand gestures or lavish affair, But in the tender moments we share. In simple joys and burdens we bear, Love’s essence found, beyond compare.
It’s in our laughter that fills the air, In quiet moments, hearts laid bare. In comforting hugs, always there, Love’s beauty shines on us, a pair.
Our love is found in the mundane, In whispered words like gentle rain. In steadfast presence, free from strain, A bond that weathers every pain.
So on this day, let’s not forget, That love’s true worth, we shall not fret. In day-to-day acts, our souls are met, In the special moments, love is set.
Wishing you all a wonderful Valentine’s Day on the 14th! xo ❤️
Another day awakens, sunlight gently streams, Yet, I lie entangled in elusive dreams. Mountains of tasks, a daunting array, Head heavy with the weight of the pending day.
The dawn whispers of responsibilities vast, A symphony of to-dos, shadows cast. Bed’s comfort tempts, a refuge to stay, But, the world outside demands its sway.
The ache in the head, the burden of thought, Projects loom, battles to be fought. In the warmth of the sheets, a plea is said, To linger longer, and avoid the day ahead.
Ah! If only I could luxuriate in bed for a few more minutes!
In the moonlit glade, a lynx appears, Fur-tipped ears, green-gold eyes quelling fears, A guardian wise, like an androsphinx’s grace, Yet, ponder, do we anthropomorphize his face?
All-knowing aura, mystique in his stare, Yet, does he ponder life with a thoughtful air? Do we project our musings, a human reflection, Onto the lynx, seeking a shared connection?
In the silent forests, mysteries untold, Does the lynx ponder more than hunger bold? Hissing and yowling and screams in the night, A startling assertion of nature’s might.
In winter’s embrace, a lonely man found cheer, A red fox came, a friend so dear.
Exquisite fur, eyes of blue-green grace, Shared scraps, forming a bond in that quiet space.
Yet, in reaching out, a truth unfolds, Wild and untamed, as nature holds.
Teeth bared, a lesson swiftly learned, A cunning companion, loyalty unearned.
I found it difficult to teach my children to be wary of wild animals when so many children’s books, cartoons, and movies – especially Disney movies, portrayed them as cute and cuddly creatures.
In a quiet wood where leaves gently spread, A hedgehog dwelled, his own path he’d tread. Alone he preferred, in solitude’s embrace, Away from his prickle, a solitary grace.
In rustling leaves, he found delight, Playing alone, a lone hedge’s right. Curling in a ball, he’d peacefully sleep, In solitude’s company, his secrets to keep.
One morn, a snowy blanket covered the land, The woods adorned in an arctic strand. Under the sun’s gaze, a serene tableau, Yet, no fellow creatures, no friend or foe.
As he played in the snow, a shadow drew near, Unseen by the hedgehog, it whispered in his ear. In his longing for solace, he returned to his den, Curled up in a ball once more, in dreams to transcend.
Little hedgehog, in the quiet of his rest, Unaware of the shadow, a mysterious guest. Alone, he slumbers, in his dream’s reprieve, In the snowy woods, where secrets weave.
I first learned about hedgehogs from TheTale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, a delightful little children’s book written and illustrated by Beatrix Potter. Although the protagonist hedgehog interacted with other animals in the story, hedgehogs are known to be solitary creatures – save for mating. I know at least one person who is very much a loner, like the hedgehog, and he seems very content. :)
Photographed by Joan Currie – The Botticelli Drawings Exhibit, Head of a Youth, Roman, 2nd century AD, marble
Ode to Cutting Off a Nose by Joan Currie
There was a young man who was vain, His self-absorbed nature was plain. Despite all the money he’d spend, No one thought of him as a friend.
He was vengeful, spiteful, and mean, People say he was rarely seen. His mother was wary of him, His future – decidedly grim.
One day when he looked in the mirror, He pronounced that he looked rather queer. So he cut off his aquiline nose, And fed all the parts to the crows.
As I was examining the marble Head of a Youth at the Botticelli Drawings exhibit at the Legion of Honor in San Francisco, I thought of the expression, “cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face,” as well as Vincent van Gogh cutting off his ear, and the ominous “Wheat Field with Crows,” one of van Gogh’s last paintings executed in 1890 before his death. The above poem was born out of that Joycean stream-of-consciousness.
I wonder what other people think when they look at great works of art? Who knows, but it could be very interesting!
In the peaks where snow doth lie, A creature graced with silent stride, Snow leopard roams beneath the sky, In the realm where frost abides.
With fur of silver, spots of night, Its gaze, ice blue, a mystic sight, Amongst snow-capped mountains high, A guardian beneath the moonlight.
Once a child of that mountain air, A woman now, distant and fair, From the village, she did part, Leaving behind a heavy heart.
In dreams, she hears the snow’s soft call, A longing echoes through the hall, Her spirit yearns for frozen grace, To wander in that wild embrace.
The snow leopard, a silent guide, Through peaks where memories abide, Its eyes like crystals, piercing cold, A tale of nature’s beauty told.
The woman, haunted by the past, Desires the mountains, free at last, To return to where her soul belongs, Amidst the snow, where it prolongs.
Through valleys deep and rivers wide, Her heart retraces steps beside, Towards the peaks, she yearns to climb, Reconnect with frozen time.
Oh, snow leopard with eyes so bright, Guide her through the frigid night, To find her way, to nature’s lore, To the mountains she adored once more.
The northern landscapes that shaped my early years now seem like distant dreams. I wish for a winter’s day, especially in the late afternoon as the sun is setting, when the snow is infused with soft shades of white, blue, lavender, and rose.
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day. From Fall, Leaves, Fall by Emily Brontë
I reveled in the beauty of fall on my walk – but, there was a bittersweet undertone to the experience. The leaves that carpeted my path were a sign that the world around me was preparing for a long slumber. The once-bustling woods would soon be hushed by the frigid grip of winter. The trees, now so alive with color, will soon stand bare and vulnerable.
Satin & Sand 