A few days ago, I was inspired byMarina’s post:https://marinakanavaki.com/2022/11/03/the-clouds-sometimes/. She is a dear, dear friend and a fabulous painter, photographer, and musician. And we share the same love of clouds, or truthfully, any artwork the sky chooses to display. So much that we agree we can never have too many photos! If you don’t know Marina, I hope you’ll pay her beautiful site a visit. So, no poetry or story today, just photos from a morning walk – a sky that took my breath away…
Hope you enjoyed and I wish you a marvelous Monday!
During one of the moments from our lake respite a few weeks ago, my husband and I sat on the shore, gazing at the glorious sunrise while also watching three men in a boat float peacefully in the far distance. A poem was stirring but hadn’t materialized, and then I came across the Oddquain poetry format. So, below are my thoughts from this blissful morning, penned in the syllabic format of Oddquain…
Oddquain is a short, usually unrhymed poem consisting of seventeen syllables distributed 1, 3, 5, 7, 1 in five lines.
Lake early morn cold air touches warm water, steam rises, halo calm
They hear whispers the lake is calling geese witness from shore, unseen truth
Luck, will it change? floating on glass-like surface, poles dangle with lures bite
ball of golden tones ascents, bringing possibilities with its glow
Thank you for reading, and here is my latest book, More than Coffee. “In the midst of all the strife and ugliness and turmoil “out there” in our world, comes lilting lovely prose and poems reminding us that the simple things of life – a cup of coffee, a hug from a child, sweetheart romance, hugging a tree, walking through the forest – these symbolize the reality of most of our lives. P. Wight
I remember yesterday when I stepped outside, strolling down the undisturbed road with my dog on my left, his gait as graceful as a galloping horse in slow motion. Maybe the squirrels raised their sleepy heads because of the early hour. The sky appeared to be coal black, but when I turned the corner, watermelon pinks, corals, and lemon yellows took center stage. My camera did not deliver. Then I thought of my son who often says, “Enjoy the moment.” I slipped that device back in my pocket. Passing the orange poppies, I imagined their stems fluttered with excitement, eager for the sun’s ascent, and in the distance, silence sang its serene ballad. As the tempo of our pace sped up, a breeze joined us, and the leaves on the trees lining the lane swayed in rhythm as though dancing a waltz. Jowls flapped, he smiled with brown nose set in overdrive. The sun’s gentle touch added a glimmer to his copper coat. There was a moment when I paused, bending down to his level, fingers stroking shiny, silky fur, his eyes closed, contented from contact. When we moved again, his nails on the asphalt mimicked the clicking of castanets, and in that second, I realized these observations on this early morning are what life is all about… the seeing…touching…smelling…listening… the being.
Sometimes, we hold plans with such great importance that when they become derailed, our mindsets are not as toughas we assume, no, not as tough as spider silk – they spiral into grottos of gloom where we keep company with a suitcase of insecurity.
Indulging in comfort that doesn’t judge or bicker occurs effortlessly. The smell of sorrow is overwhelming.
But despite the absence of light, the sunrise slowly unfolds, brushstrokes of vivid oranges illuminate the sky like a painter brightens a new canvas, and the experience feels feather-light as though a burden is lifted.
Our fascination is stirred once again by a hummingbird’s ability to fly forward and backwards, sideways, and even upside down. We hear the sparrows singing their tales, and bees buzzing in jubilation.
Sensing the spiritual presence of hope, we exhale with relief, and we are optimistic for an extended stay.
I haven’t felt like doing much blogging lately, so I’m sorry for missing so many lovely posts. But, as a follow-up to my recent blog post, health issues have been resolved, although some gray area needs explaining and clearing up. So we’re still waiting, but all is a bit brighter. Then just when we sighed with relief, another cause to worry arrived this week, but we’re not alone. It’s been a tough year, period! In so many ways!
Even though negative thoughts tend to stick like glue, when positive thoughts arrive, they are welcomed like a warm embrace. So, we carry that positivity with us everywhere we go because suggesting a mindset of the opposite would only create doom and gloom. And I can’t help but fall gracefully into the magic of the season even if Covid lurks in the shadows. I love the Christmas carols, the twinkling and colorful lights of joy, and this season of hope even in dark times.
Then, on my early morning walk with Copper today, the sunrise greeted me with a BIG smile. We just can’t have enough photos of sunrises and sunsets, can we? I looked to the sky and thought, “Wow! Another gorgeous sunrise! Another day to enjoy life and all the people and joys in it that make us so grateful.”
And in every dark moment, a hint of hope shines through…
I hope all of you are doing well in spite of this crazy, tragic, and stressful year. And if you’re feeling down, I hope the sunrises lift your spirits as you lean into people around who love you. And when the sun is hidden, I hope its warmth stays in your hearts, guiding you into each new day.
It’s been over three months since I’ve been in blogland, and I’m still unsure of my plans. But I wanted to say “hello” and see how you’re doing. I’ve been busy in school, taking another English class and writing a lot. However, I haven’t written poetry since I left for my blog break. Inspiration has been scarce, but hopefully I’ll find some soon. Anyway, I hope the new year has been great to you so far, and I wish for the coming months to be just as wonderful!
I’m closing with an old haiku from years ago and wishing you all a very Happy Friday! Sending much love, Lauren♥
waking up early peeking over the hilltop its rays hug with warmth