here is a tree to make me happy: branches that do not meet my expectations; they all go their own puzzling ways. a pleasing chaos reigns as branches grow unpredictably, following no known patterns, growing always beautiful. shape and shade encourage my easy admiration. (hot summer days teach many meanings of oppression) we should never learn them all.
Kal Lake merging photos, makes panorama visions like we never saw before, i look out at this view i have seen every day, and always it's seemed something new. time closes in quickly, as time seems to do at the end of a long tiring day. my time's coming soon, this view will be gone, a time to just walk away . life brings us such views, then makes us choose; we turn to go forward each day.
the tired old man lived there long years, while the paint faded and the roof rotted. then he moved on, he needed help, and tried a realtor, but gave up after a wretched while, who took his sign, because there was no longer anyone to deal with. and the old shack began its return to mother earth.
and when we see the sky as night comes down, we see such light, amazing in our skies. how can we sleep, with colours such as these? then comes the dark, and weary eyes will rest. we sleep and wake, because we hear small birds sing, and then it's daylight, ready to enjoy another day. and we will wait until the day is gone, and we can see the sky again, amazing in our minds.
saturn's rings are little things, torn apart by too much gravity perhaps. no levity would help, i fear. sometimes it is like that here. love and laughter sometimes coincide. and when they do, magic may happen. stuff like love and floral bouquets can be storied, stories unto themselves. we dare not ask; we do not really want to know. saturn's rings are little things, torn apart by too much gravity perhaps.
Red Deer River Valley here was an ocean an ancient shallow sea; great creatures navigated there before you and me. archaic things swam in sandy bottomed shallows sailors in ancient places, where we'll never go again. buried bones have turned to stone millions of years went sliding past it seems so long; it goes so fast. here are bones, when fleshed and live, swam by so long ago. we see them in museums, learning little.
sign of springtime growing wild on a hillside, always impressive, wild things in wild places. snow melt waters cool hillsides, and arrowleaf balsamroot. this year i'll miss the daisies. a time has come to go to distant places, to move along, and find other signs of spring, in other places. adventure seems to beckon; we will go.
it's someplace exotic where i'd like to be again. winds bring us clouds then it starts to rain. green stuff is wonderful, so appealing, i don't know why. it seems a green voice calls seductively and i know that not too many steps, into the green, i'd disappear. smiling.
Blown Peony 2 it looks like this when the petals fall off. each day brings a new surprise. this morning i had to shovel snow. and shout hello to my neighbor. his new puppy came to visit. a puppy's full off play. fuzzy bundle of bounces. i made a friend. new friends are always so full of promise; you never know.
a little of this and a bit of that, all in a bouquet... colour can be so beautiful, she bends and sniffs a flower while i watch, pleased to have seen her. i could never have looked as wonderful or smelled so well the sweet perfume. i can imagine her as a child, delighting her parents, as she smelled the perfume of wild roses