Admin Buildings

black and white defines
an old, old building.

once administrators
worked to keep things
running as they should.


a hospital of sorts,
nestled in farmland,

at the end of a once
smoother road,
 

now i see a black
and white creation,
possible when you 
remove all colour, 

shading remains,
some subtle nuance,

and little more.



because i see colour,
i appreciate more
information, details
that become possible.

and yet the monochrome
has a certain majesty,

making possible some
powerful moods,

sometimes a little spooky,
sometimes an invitation 
to reflection,


often a good thing.

Hostess Gift

many tiny petals help 
to make a vibrant show.

i would sing high;
my voice is far too low

choirs need voices
in each range
and in each tone

we cannot sing so well 
when we sing alone.


each petal too has 
its part to play.

to make a flower first 
then a bouquet.


many tiny petals help 
to make a vibrant show.

i would sing high;
my voice is far too low

choirs need voices
in each range
and in each tone

we cannot sing so well 
when we sing alone.

Under the Mountain

it feels like shelter,
nestled there,

under the mountain.

no ashes in the picture,
the land is sunburnt

short of ashes.


here we see what seems
to be a farmyard, nestled

under the mountain.


birds in their nests,
wolves in their dens,

lhey seem so safe,
cosy and secure.

cattle and horses
seem oblivious
to unseen dangers,

under the mountain.


nothing and nobody 
seems to see it coming, 
if it ever comes at all,

a distant future or
unreachable past,

never threatens us
if we are not looking,
unless maybe,

things are not exactly
what we expect.

under the mountain.


Lilies of the Field

Lilies of the Field


fancy costumes
we don't really need,

we'll never look
as beautiful as lilies.

the man said.


so how much 
should we care 
about impressing 
anyone?

he said:
not much at all.


if he's right about that,
then what should i be
so concerned about?

one thing only,
and it doesn't show.

not beautiful suits
of highest fashion.

not how good we look,
it doesn't count.


fancy costumes
we don't really need,

we'll never look
as beautiful as lilies.

the man said.













Not Gone Nor Forgotten

Not Gone Nor Forgotten


those days 
were not as easy 
as the days that 
we have known.


artifacts of a past
our grandparents
may have lived:

the house beside 
a dirty pond,
(filled daily by 
nesting geese).


it stands,
decaying slowly,
on the edge of
the pond they built

(whoever it was, who
also built the house)

he thought he 
had it made
when he built it 
all here.


in those days, 
he had to work: 

build some buildings,
fall some trees.


it seemed no one, 
that he knew, cared
who claimed this land.

for those who knew
tree-covered hills,
he was a puzzle.


not far away,
a creek splashed by.

when he passed on,
it was expedient
to give this land back,

to those who loved
tree-covered hills.


how could i say 
what were the names
of all the players?

i doubt i knew any;
but there were artifacts,

artifacts of the past.

Sweet Heart

photographing intimate 
parts of flowers,

i see it as exotic;
some say it is erotic.

she says it is weird;
but i don't understand.


i see interesting
shapes and colours,

meant to attract bees,
or indeed any
anxious pollinators.

(nothing to do with us)

all i see here is beauty,
and i see no reason to 
attach meaning to it.

beauty is meaning enough.


if you say it is erotic,
i think of your amorous dog,
who seems to like my leg.


photographing intimate 
parts of flowers,

i see it as exotic;
some say it is erotic.

she says it is weird;
but i don't understand.

	

Small House

a small house is home
for small creatures
we envy so much

they can fly, after all;         
we are gravity-bound
creatures of the earth.

when we see them
swoop and soar,

we wish for wings.


when we learn to fly,
we find it's not easy.

there's things to learn;
we have no reference.

we can't easily 
adjust our speed, 
to land in treetops.


smart as monkeys
sometimes can be,

we are a bit unsuitable
for bird-like flight.


sometimes we see them 
looking out their doors,

as if they were windows
from somwhere.


we dream as gods,
not able or willing
to understand our limits. 

Mom Bouquet

Mom Bouquet

only a few days ago, 
i passed by a bouquet 
with a message.

mom, it said, and
made me think 
of my own
long-gone mother.


my brother sent
a photograph
of her on skis,
from eighty
years ago.

no doubt, she was
a fabulous beauty,

with a wonderful smile.


the mom bouquet
is loaded with pink
colour and bright
pink text.

it is a celebration


i look and wish 
all mothers could
feel celebrated.

it saddens me to
know it is not
always so.

i have heard some
sad stories,

and wonder now
about my sister
her friends, and 
their friends.


i think about
the women
i have loved,

hoping i was not 
the best part 
of their lives!

Riverbank

flooding silt loaded,
river, rising, rising,

sometimes we see
flotsam, after amazing 
rain in hills above.

riverbanks may be
eaten away by those
unpredictable currents.


i am a floating leaf, 
and aware than i
do not control 
my own currents.

some choices exist;
so do unpredictable 
things and events.

what kind of a 
metaphor is 
a river? time?

what exactly is time? 
some things won't 
fall into a line.

some can't.


still we believe
time flows like
water, downhill.

but what about 
those interesting 
eddies, that seem 
to run backwards?


and i know i can't
always be certain.


.




Rhododendron 2021_1

flower covered bush,
it brightens her yard.


how can he presume 
to tell her anything,

there are so many 
stories, lies to tell,

things to be said,
true or false. 


creative colouration,
no match for nature's
purple pallette.

all day long i sit,
watching for a sign:


a hummingbird
laps at the nectar
of our imagination.

we fantasize its
lively presence 
in the scene 
we wish to see


great questions
remain unanswered:

is it time for a nap?

will we see a 
rainbow today 
or even tomorrow?


(things we want to know)

keep your fingers
on the right keys.

unlock subtle 
meanings.


afternoon comes and
a nap becomes
possible.

some day we may
learn to be human,


just a small part of
nature's purple pallette.