a firework spark
following the morning sun
boom! her yellow crown
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Melissa and I pulled into the parking lot at the Nestucca Bay National Wildlife Refuge. It was a planned stop on our way to Lincoln City to shop at the outlet mall, a convenience we don’t have in the small town we live in: brand names, a number of choices, good prices.
The parking lot was empty and a light rain began to fall. We packed up a bit of food and water and our raincoats. Before hiking in the hill, we stopped at the posted map to get our bearings. The trail meandered its way through a few trees which opened up to another meadow where we found two deer grazing.
The deer looked toward us.
Melissa and I looked toward them.
The rain stopped, the rain started, I was not sure how many times.
The deer lowered their heads and continued to graze.
We turned our heads and continued our hike and entered forest.
under the canopy
on one side of the trail
sitting on a felled tree
Getting up from the bench, we entered the store.
While browsing the shirt rack my eyes glance up.
Two other shoppers, their eyes glance up.
We shared a causal conversation, not sure how long.
They lowered their eyes and continued shopping.
I lowered my eyes, sliding a few shirts hangers along the rail.
I purchased a shirt and a pair of hiking pants and joined Melissa. As we were leaving the store, a shopper heading in held the door open for us. Melissa and I both shared a thank you. Before moving on, we made our way to our car in the overflow parking lot to drop off our purchases.
the canopy hums
on the trail holding her hand-
raindrops on stained glass
razor sharp edge-
shadow spray roars
moonlight mist
presumably caught!
sifting through my hands
dandelion dew
ah!
the fragrance
a passing cloud
1.
quail skitters across
one shadow to another
skating on thin ice
2.
below the maples
a light in the midnight soil
blooms autumn crocus
3.
a shivering breeze
a red leaf landing below
whispering autumn
a crack in the haze
particles from distant flames
fire’s glow unseen
I spent the last 8 days quietly: off of the computer, no pencil and paper, email or reading.
My schedule allowed me to walk in the early morning and late evening.
Below are photographs taken this week representing each day:
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Day 7
Day 8
1.
There is small patch of dry soil on the corner of 6th and Jackson streets. Two of its sides are boarded by a fence at the edge of a paved parking lot. The other two sides by the curve of the sidewalk. Because we have had little rain this patch of ground has gotten little water. The soil is as white and hard as the concrete that surrounds it. I would have paid little attention to it except for sprouting in the barely discernible crack between the sidewalk and the soil is an Indian Blanket whose blooms are saturated in reds and yellows. The Indian blanket is a drought hardy plant, but I was amazed that something so beautiful and vibrant could come from, in my view, the harsh conditions of the hard and dry soil.
while the day’s traffic
stops and goes to red and green…
a silent witness
2.
3.
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1.
2.
Last night I went for a walk intending to watch the sunset. I got a late start and when walking over the hill into the canyon on a dirt trail above the South Fork of the Palouse River, I found the sun had already set. It was that momentary pause between day and night when boundaries disappear and colors blend. I find a beauty in this pause and lose myself in the conversation where for a moment all are talking and listening in silence.
As the darkness deepened I remained lost when the night conversation began with the calling of Crickets and Katydids. In the pause and into the night there were no boundaries or a sense of time, a felt a hint of something beyond myself. After returning home I thought about the conversations I participate in daily with my neighbors, driving from one place to another weaving from lane to lane, and those I spend the day with. Two questions came to mind; where does this feeling go when walking through the pause from night into day and how can I carry it to silently participate in the day’s conversations?
Palouse hills echo
rimmed in light years moonlight gray
coyotes yip-yipping
when autumn winds blow
where will they go when they fall?
and who will listen?
deep tree shadow’s edge
thistle purple blooms gone white
soon the autumn winds