Humbly Yours

Fixated on inspiring envy from
others whom she instinctively,
viscerally feels compelled to awe
by drawing their attention, she
preens with the pride of believing
herself extraordinary, able to excite
feelings of green longing when
others' notice is directed toward
symbols of her exquisite taste 
her unerring eye, her penchant
for recognizing rare value, her
devotion to neighbour-envy, and
her costly contracting out of
professionals, experts in devising
and creating luxurious upgrades
no expense spared. Nothing bores
her so much as others performing
their own tasks in obedience to their 
aesthetic; their focus on self-reliance
and satisfaction in accomplishment.
Their generosity in acknowledging
the quality of work performed on
her behalf by the workers she
imperiously bullies she recognizes
as her due. Leaving her no
social obligation like the tedious
expectation of reciprocation for
herself, deigning never to bend 
so low as to issue compliments
on the delight of  well-executed
originality by those who undertake
their own impeccable redesign.

Sunlit Forest

Hovering between the golden
light of sunbeams streaming
through the verdant summer
canopy of the forest, wildflowers
turn their sun-flecked faces
to the source of their existence
in a display of form and colour
identifying the presence of
clover and cinquefoil, daisies
and fleabane, buttercups and
cowvetch, Queen Anne's lace
 and yarrow, their blooming
features interrupting the green
monotone of the forest; evergreens
and hardwoods, the understory of
rapidly advancing thistles,
thimbleberry, hazelnut bushes
and striving sunflowers, all
challenging the supremacy and
height of entitled tree saplings.

Whose Domain?

A slight breeze wafts through
the forest understory, shifting
foliage to wag like a dog's tail.
Above, in the dense forest canopy,
a more robust wind thrusts tree
masts to a clacking dance.
The piercing whistle of a hawk
soaring through the dense blue sky
alerts the ground creatures to 
flee to refuge. Two dogs, one
high-pitched in its excitement 
of the chase, the other baying
as a more certain hunting instinct
closes in, skirt and leap at the 
base of a bark-shredding old
pine, as above, a cheeky red
squirrel scolds their presumptuous
presence, feral creatures in a
distinctly wild-animal domain.

Funny Day

The theatrical stage of the sky
this summer day casts a
benign pale blue smile over the
city landscape. Nature has consigned
her environs to a petulant air
of irresolution, tempered with
a degree of impishness. Little
wonder the wind chuckles
through the trees. The sun is a
frequent visitor but so too
are clouds assembling in a 
disorder of bruised greys,
this day. Confusion reigns
retaining a sense of humour,
as the sun shines full on,
the sky weeping a tender
shower of drizzling laughter.

 

 Urban Forest

It is a true urban forest
set within the boundaries
of a modern industrialized
highly-technically-advanced
city, not a manicured, cared-for
parkland setting, but one of
nature's rude enclaves where
trees mature, they age and
fall and rotting detritus 
enriches the forest floor
littered with an understory of
lesser trees and wild shrubs,
bracken and whichever wild
flowers scarce-penetrating
sunrays encourage to bloom.
Within its depths where hills
rise and valleys descend,
trickles a clay-based creek
uninviting to fish yet with
its share of little-seen aquatic
life. In that forest wing cardinals
and bluejays, hawks and owls,
nuthatches and chickadees,
crows and sometimes ravens.
Pileated woodpeckers drum
the insect inhabited bark of
infested trees. The forest
remains intact because its
geology does not lend itself
to the exploitation of land
'development'. Nature has
developed it for its own very
singular uninterrupted purpose.

Companion

He's an awfully small
creature is our little fellow,
given to the occasional
bout of moody distemper
fed up at times when he
feels his autonomy too
invaded, yet more than 
amply compensating when
revealing his love and
contentment in our presence.
His life alongside our own
a constant reminder of our
mutual attachment and 
concern advanced by two
people consumed with love
for one another with room
enough to accommodate
a shared cherishing of
a beloved companion.

Pleasures 

Gardening

In a gentle covenant as old
as life itself, the spontaneous
benevolence between creatures
of the Earth recognizes within
each other the common goal of
survival, striving to achieve that
state with surpassing grace.

Gardeners tend the soil and
plant the seed in emulation of
nature, so plants may thrive and
birds find shelter, fulfilling
destiny in an interrelated and
mutually dependent world.

We reap the harvest of what
we sow, nudging our ravishing
gardens to grow, beholding 
splendour and beauty,
providing sustenance for life
in the flight of time.

Our rewards manifest in the
value our eyes behold, our
hands may measure, our ears
enjoy, in the song sparrow's
peerless dusktime trill.

Beyond Recognition

The face is that of a woman,
mature, though younger than me,
and oddly, strangely familiar
as though representing a type;
hair curly by nature and by
nature's design its dark colour
inevitably journeying to grey.
She smiles, in that photo, an
air of wistful longing as though
aware that at some future time
another woman might regard her 
somewhat familiar visage
with its depthless eyes slightly
set within dark hollows of
memory lurking beneath,
bequeathing to the beholder
some legacy, a heritage of
knowing what she does not 
know, her awareness that the
image she regards with such
bemusement is herself, younger,
amused and wondering, wondering.

 

The Forest Path

The forest path gleams and
glimmers with beams of errant
sunlight beyond its dusky interior
where pools of rainwater breed
stinging pests. Near the path,
the purple of stinging nettles
softly deny their reputation.
Dangling cherries turning ripe
in the sun, festoon the upper
reaches of choke cherry trees
where birds flit about, taken
with the pleasure of summer
existence. Cinquefoil and
buttercups, daisies and sunflowers
turn their petalled heads to the
glowing orb as bees and
dragonflies, damselflies and
butterflies loop their embroidery
on the landscape's canvas. A
muddy creek running through
the forest floor flicks back the
sheen of sunrays, as a thrush
peals its high, sweet notes in
perfect pitch of the harmony
of nature's unerring blueprint.

Pastorale

Pulled as tightly as a drum 
skin, the snug canopy above
sheltering from the afternoon sun
vibrates its very own melodies
when wind shudders its frame and
fabric, the gusts creating their
own authentic theme, beckoning
the rain to advance its percussive
notes on the canvas, boasting
the soprano trills of a robin
eagerly anticipating the exit
of earthworms after the deluge.
This symphonic performance
of exquisite sound represents
nature in perfect balance, a
delight to observe and applaud
in my front-row, first-class seat.

Tenderly Eight

Delicately bird-boned, all alone
on the forest path, her blonde 
hair hung dank with the torpor
of a late summer afternoon as
she ventured along, swinging arms
to defend her flesh from the
constant bombardment of stinging
pests. The small dog's unfriendly
greeting frightened her, but its
admonishing owners gave
comfort, as the child trotted
alongside in her skimpy summer 
frock, chattering unaffectedly
with the elderly pair and the dog
suddenly as trusted as her own
grandparents though strangers 
they were who soon were animatedly
advised of her name and age, 
school and grade, older siblings'
names and sport activities, and
that she had impulsively strolled 
into the woods behind her
grandparents' home to escape
the harshness of her parents' and
grandparents' adult discussion,
oblivious to her distressed presence.

The Acquisitive Gardener

It was, without doubt, a
thoughtful gesture for him
to offer the opportunity for
her to browse, just take her time
wandering the rows in the
greenhouse, imbibing the
ambrosia of garden scents,
responding to the rapture of
fabulous colours, magnificent
shapes of blossoms, curling
vines, curvaceous foliage, all
skilled by nature to wheedle 
their chorus on the innocent
gardener, unable to view
that living treasure house
without imagining those
exotic beauties resting in 
peace and comfort in a
voluptuous conceit within
the borders of her very own
garden of earthly delights.

Pluralism

In the Middle East and in
areas of Europe no one would
glance more than once. In due
time, we are informed, the
presence of a young man
with sharp, swarthy features,
bearded, sandalled, garbed
head to toe in a loose white robe,
would be taken as commonplace
in an increasingly colourful society
welcoming world-wide migrants.
This is not yet that time and his
appearance was conspicuous
by the measure of his presentation
in the crowded supermarket full
of shoppers anxious not to
miss food bargains. In the crush
of people, shopping carts were
at a premium and he pushed one
fronted by a baby carrier built
into the cart upon which lay a large
bunch of bulb-red, leafy-green
radishes. Two large watermelons
sat within the cart, alongside
rapini and kale. Cellphone at 
his ear, he probed among sale items
extracting two bags of potato chips
emerging from his spree to
approach the cash. Suddenly,
his purchases, less ascetic, he
has clearly achieved assimilation.

Left Us

Two years have come and
they have gone, without her
by our side, where she belonged
but is no longer there. We have
come to reluctant terms with the
reality of her yet painful absence
from our lives. Oh -- she is still
here, a small black ghost of
the vibrant little animal she was
once, complementing our lives,
imbuing our shared experiences
with the meaning of cross
species bonding and just plain
love and trust. Gone, never
forgotten in dim recollection.
And we have learned to manage
our wistful grief at her loss;
philosophical, we finally tell
ourselves, Except when we meet
people now who still ask where
our shadowy companion is, and
we wince the explanation: left us,
two years ago, aged nineteen.

Pacific Rim National Preserve, B.C.

Two kayakers, two beautiful summer days, one quizzical seal, whales spouting equals perfection.

Photographs courtesy J.S. Rosenfeld