Joe Pallen

Blog

  • Mid March, #81

    1.

    Afternoon spring winds
    waft through an open window,
    sweep northern shadows

    2.

    3.

    First steps of the day
    out the window crocus blooms
    the old oak floor creaks

  • In the Arboretum, #80

    Light misty breath
    lit by a waning winter sun
    each catkin flower

  • Early March, #79

    1.

    Moist green garlic shoots
    thread through faded brittle weaves
    of an old straw mat

    2.

    Under filtered sun –
    Palouse snowmelt fills the gaps
    of wind whipped shadows

    3.

    About to write a thought
            a fly lands on the paper
                                    – then flies away!

  • Winter breeze, #78

    A distant birdsong
    lies in the highway’s faint hum
    in a snowy field

  • Late February, #77

    1.

    Icicles caress
    the leafless flower garden–
    droplets drip, dripping

    2.

    A walker spies thier phone-
    while a dog paints graffiti
    on  a snowbank

    3.

    Cycling red and green
    cars emit thunderous waves-
    a crow flaps its wings

  • Winter day, #76

    From wintering trees-
    the notification pings-
    a lonely bird song

  • Winter Garden, #75

    Tomato poles stand
    in the snow covered garden-
    patiently waiting

  • Mid February, #74

    1

    Palouse snowfall
    somewhere Paradise Ridge 
    cannot see me

    2

    The burning candle
    on this cold winter day
    shivers

    3

    The Orchid bloom
    illumines
    this winter morning

  • Downtown, #73

    I stop and take a photo of a couple sitting outside the coffee shop downtown.  It had just been snowing and I think to myself, “A snow-shower would have been a nice addition.” (It had been snowing during most of my walk).

    I walk by their table and notice two Canon cameras and strike up a conversation.

    The couple say they are out taking pictures for the day. We talk about the Palouse and I find out they are only here for a month, finishing some work at Washington State University, and have a desire to be back in the big city.

    They notice my FUJIFILM X100S with its bent sunshade and scratches.  I instantly think of the many miles I’ve walked with it hanging from my shoulder and I wonder what bends and scratches their cameras will one day show?

    As I get ready to leave there is an uncomfortable pause. I think because of the inability to shake hands, because of COVID. After it passes we share a slight head bow, smiles, and a friendly wave goodbye.

    Turning in the night
    my head finds the pillow–
    between dreams

  • Noon Hour, #72

    Shrieks of joy
    footsteps splashing-
    winter rain

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