bass tournament season on Table Rock Lake

Feb morning - lavender skies

Boat engines wake us at first light
(we still can’t believe traffic noise
would shake us from sleep
in this remote corner of the earth).
But each morning it starts beyond the eastern ridges-
just the slightest whining of an insect,
an annoyance easily ignored.
Until, with increasing volume,
it reaches the full throated wail
of an open mouthed throttle
at water levitating speeds
rounding the peninsula heading west-
the boats roar recedes with distance,
and the fishermen cast lots
to find the elusive scaled and finned trophy.

Laughing, we listen
to the deep cut wake crashing
into our quiet cove,
shaking the sleeping docks-
startling the herons
peacefully fishing from the rocky shore

sunday morning moments

sunday morning reflections 2014

wavering reflection/ dawns light on the water/ prayers of thanksgiving

sound of trumpets/ wild geese overhead /processional hymn

echoing across the cove/ tiny wrens warbling song/ call to worship

frothy white pear blossoms/ peek out from the woods/ little girls in church

small brown chipmunk/ perched on the gray stone wall/ morning meditations

small fishing boats/ bobbing in the morning cove/ gestures of faith

across the warming meadow/ cacophony of birdsong/ sunday morning choir practice

morning wakes/ shrouded in gray mist/ prayers of intercession

quiet murmuring/ pale gray doves in the cedars/ lenten prayers

from the cedar tops/ blue jays call/ shouts of acclamation

cold wind ruffles the morning cove/ sound of waves against the rocky shore/ prayers of the penitent

from the cold winter garden/ bright golden trumpets of daffodils/ intrusion of grace

*** This is the scene that greeted me this morning as I was filling the birdfeeders – such a glorious sky and reflections – hope you have a beautiful day

crazy quilt

The Quiet of the Crescent Moon
pieced together in cobalt and lilac
squares of crazy quilted sky fill in scraps of the day
stitched with sharp needles of stars and comet tails
held in place by old oaks outstretched arms
reaching up until the twilight is pinned
hemmed and skirted by dusk and sweet dreams
receding day spills across the western ridge
to get swept into the corners of night

red haired dawn

Late winter morning 2-2014
leaping over the ridge
dawn’s red haired wildness
skips across the cove
with tawny paws

*** I was thrilled this morning to see a red fox loping across the meadow. He was a gorgeous color with his foxy face and bushy tail. We have seen tracks and evidence of his hunt, but this was our first sighting. A joy to see!

the gulf between us

the scent of river and green
fills the space in my mind
where once you were only
a memory of a dream
years and myths of what
we were and will become
are written in the runes
left by crow and sassafras trees
my heart wends its way to the gulf
between us the marsh and saw grass
sweet in its dance with the wind
chiming bells of lilies cascade
across the river bed
of green moss and milk weed
tumbling into laughter
gulls wheel overhead
calling your name
again and again and again

what lies below the surface

January afternoon
from a distance
there is no awareness of waters course
the underground rivers
and springs that feed
the man created lake
filled with life unseen
unless caught
by hook or by crook
doors windows and walls
stand atlantis-like
in the cold murky depths
sunken roads
long forgotten
lead to submerged villages
peopled with old memories
and rust
lives of longings
all below the surface
reaching to the world
of sunlight
with the brim and catfish