we watch the weather roll over this hill; we see mists slide down towards us, sometimes bringing snow. we run a tab with nature, fools if we forget this. when we are least prepared, perhaps; it will come due. mists and clouds obscure the hilltop in autumn. snow, in winter reminds us we don't go up these hills so well. these are our autumn days. it isn't over; the view is fine, from here.
Caribbean Rain last time was exotic tile roofs waiting in early morning rain. maybe it was here we saw pelicans, marine iguanas, rain, tropical rain. looking through glass, we see a certain welcome a welcome of a certain kind. rains taper off. rain, tropical rain peaceful warm rain does not alarm in any way instead, it soothes. (been wet before and always dried)
BW Tree looking lonely on a hillside, black on white is all we see under blackened branches i see no distant stars even there we crave light, we are night-blind even in daylight we do not see so well from here, it looks like scenery of some kind these days, it seems so hard to find good scenery, a distant hillside and a black tree...
cold to touch now, lava was so hot so many years ago. it flowed like water into the sea. old lava now and rich in rust (old iron) and the waves break on it (erosion wins). that boulder squats quietly as we sail past.
take me outside where i can hear the little birds singing like they're breaking my heart. take me outside where i can see still, dark tree shadows underneath a noonday sun. take me outside where i can hear water splashing, rushing over rocks in such a lively creek. take me outside where i can see a golden sunset above a remote and sandy beach take me outside
from way up there the view is excellent. springtime may be the sweetest time of year. a distant lake adds interest to my photo. i know that lake is ninety miles long. it gives us comfort to know things. (even if we can't control our decaying world) all i know: there is beauty there above it all.
cold rain washes the big windows. i look south down the lake and see winter. invisible yet, but i see it in my mind: cold days, icy cold dark nights, i see it coming like a bad dream. my last icy breath steams the windows, in my mind. i find little snow, all in snowbanks. we'll carve an igloo from hard-packed frozen snow. inside it will be much warmer and a chill wind won't steal our body heat. although it's freezing out we'll be warm enough. cold rain washes the big windows. i look south down the lake and see winter.
coming into port bahamas around a seawall, we look at ships, tied up in port. they seem so safe, secure, as we too manouvre to our berth. the sun is almost setting. (as we are safe in port) like home!
Black and White Lakeside some colours will tell us a story, a story we may like to forget. though a lake seems so pure, we can't be so sure. it's safer to see black and white a mill on a lake poisons more than you'd think so we'll leave out the colours tonight. some colours will tell us a story, a story we may like to forget.
September Hilltop from up there we could see for miles. and something spoke in whispers, about a view (we gladly didn't miss) mostly it was unspoiled it seemed, from where we stood high on the trail, looking over so much of such beauty. again, we had to learn to breathe.