spring morning rain

Spring Morning Rain

The beat of the
windshield wipers begins
and holds steady
as the dark clouds
of the worlds concert hall
slowly open
to the rhythm of the rain.

Passing headlights
provide the light show
joined with
the whoosh and hum,
a tire chorus
on wet pavement.

Spring’s early morning
experimental symphony.

Night Rain

Night Rain

Splashes and Rivulets.
The rain dances then flows
washing, cleansing the
streets and sidewalks
by lamplight
while the city sleeps.

The sins of Winter
washed into the gutter and
time moves slowly.
I stare impatient
by the window
waiting for repentant Spring.

… on… a thousand fading stars….

Night comes darkly
Bringer of dreams and nightmares
Floating in space

A Thousand Fading Stars

Flash of excitement
A thousand stars fading from view
Dreamers wake to light

Your music moment is by Mazzy Star – FADE INTO YOU
from their 1993 album So Tonight That I Might See.

… on…swallows play….

 

Field For Swallows Play

Field For Swallows Play

Where have all the swallows gone?
wings clipped
caged spirits
songs silenced
ghosts of freedom

murmurations
of grace and dignity
gone gone gone
hiding in dark shelters

feathers tremble
hearts quiver
waiting for the noisy,
angry hunter to leave

fire burns the fields
arrogance tears down shelters
bringer of death
the enslaver comes with a mocking grin
noisily waving a flag

….on memory….darkness

What is it like to lose one’s memory. I’m not talking about just periodic lapse, simple absent-mindedness or the loss that comes from someone just not being around any more. I’m talking about loss of memory as with alzheimer’s. In my short life existence I’ve noticed that people always want to deal with the “light” and positive things in life while I’ve tended to gravitate toward the darkness in life that people don’t want to deal with or deliberately try to avoid. The two images I’m posting here are my humble attempts to deal with this darkness. To contemplate memories: forgetting and forgotten.

The subject in these photos are quite simply just corn husks that were laying in a mud puddle of the cow lane on the family farm. I took the photos on Christmas day when I was visiting my family. With the recent loss of my father Christmas seemed to be more about memory than ever before. How we remember. Why we remember. How we forget and why we forget and of course, what we forget.

Memories Forgetting & ForgottenMemories Forgetting & Forgotten 2

Just because the world grows dark doesn’t mean it has less meaning – only that meaning itself has changed.  Blessings on those in the darkness, in the shadows of the day-dwellers.