in the pond

in the pond, I saw
ribbons glistening with fragile
black polka dots of life
unspooled
as though a special present
was joyfully torn open
and the wrappings left
to fend for themselves
lovely elegant skeins
filled with the future
ink dotted children
black comma’ed offspring
creatures of water and air
neither fish nor fowl
born to one elemental force
alive in the gullied water
finding legs within
to leap to the essential element
air lunged full
in the oxygen sky
blue green
tree filled world
of moss, mud and marsh
tiny metamorphic saints of change
chanting in the afternoon rain

pond and frog

008

reunited
pond and frog
frolicking to commence shortly

*** Just in the past two days, our annual frog awakening has begun.The evening is filled with their trilling calls and lots of splashing about. Soon, the rocks will be covered in translucent ribbons of ink black eggs – then polliwogs and tadpoles! Spring is here!!!

daffodils for wordsworth and me

gifts of spring

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
By William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

singles and doubles

*** this is one of my favorite poems – maybe the first I ever memorized – and the daffodils are happy residents of my garden

tales and mythologies

better with every telling , the story of the night we met
our creation mythology, filled with revelry and beer
my gemini to your cancer- constellations sharing stars
aligned just so with the conjunction of planets
perfectly formed in the cataclysm of desire

our saga continued with heroic deeds and herculean tasks
all spilling across pages of years, tattooed on our faces
deeds fair and foul, most forgotten and some forgiven
all returning to that original sin, our garden created
and cultivated with four hands, labored,
and ,on occasion, nurtured by an angel or two

willingly we return to that first moment, revisiting
the past lore, embellished and golden with retelling
the myth of our own making, epic, comic, tragic
the end will be as the beginning, a story better
for the telling and perfectly formed in the stars