How Are You?

A chance encounter, a surprised

recognition, for we are only

acquaintances and many years

have intervened.  We are of

different generations, but both

grandmothers, and there is

released a floodgate of details

in notes minor and major,

since there is more we have

in common than what sets us

apart.  And when we finally

take leave of one another, we

simultaneously obey an impulse

that floods our emotions; embrace,

murmuring solace and comfort.

Toy Marmalade Poodle

His is a very small presence,

but his presence is not

limited to or by his

inconsequential size.  His

angelic appearance is much

to his credit, despite there is

little angelic about him; his

expectations rather, are

tyrannical, demanding his due

as the thimble-sized master

of the abode we share; his

slightly more equal and

entitled than ours.  Ours the

responsibility for his constant

comfort, reassurance and

provender, notwithstanding.

 The Ephemeral Woods

Heat has settled upon the

landscape, an entitlement of

the season.  As is the rain,

descending without pause

for days upon drenching days.

Humid heat does nothing to

dampen the birdsong emitted 

from the talented throats of

song sparrows, robins, cardinals,

goldfinches besotted with life.

Mist rises from the dark, churning

waters that thread throughout the

forest.  Mosses creep, and fungi

have made their impudent

appearance on roots and

stumps, squirrel-nibbled.

The forest canopy is luxuriantly

verdant, wild grape vines clinging 

where they may.  A nesting owl sits 

solicitously within her nest in a blasted 

pine. Wind unleashes droplets clinging

to leaves and dense needles.

Upon the forest floor thrive bracken 

and dogwood, interlaced with 

purple-blooming cowvetch. Buttercups 

and daisies, hawkweed and fleabane, 

orange, yolk-yellow and watermelon 

pink stipple the dripping green.

 The Spirit of the Garden

The spirit of the garden

pokes her impish pixie face

deep within the dew-glittering

blossoms that greet the

morning sun, kissing them 

with the fervour of her

gardening soul, humming

softly to herself in echo of

the cardinal trilling welcome

to dawn as she directs the

traffic of hummingbirds and

bees, gently pats twining vines

into order, flicking spent blooms

\with her green, slender fingers,

speedily absenting herself as

the gardener makes his smug

appearance to assess the

order of his gardening day.

 The Yawning Void

It is there, simply there,
subtly obliterating contentment,
an emptiness that felt, unbidden,
compelled to settle in, to nestle
deep within our defenceless
grieving consciousness in that
absence that greets us each
and every day startlingly anew.

It insists on its dominion
over our devastated emotions,
on exerting its control over
pain, memory, loss.  And we have
welcomed that intrusion, laid wide
our vulnerability, aided it to lodge
deep within.  Its overwhelming
presence, the human condition.

The joy in life becomes gratitude
only when carefree existence is
threatened by loss.  Then springs
alive the agony of absence, the
loved one gone, absorbed into
that dark emptiness that yawns
impartially into eternity.

Landscapes In Nature

Photo essay courtesy of J.S. Rosenfeld

 Fancy That!

Up there, in the stratosphere,

it was clear a level of hostility

was underway, some difference

of opinion leading to an aggravated

confrontation that clouded the

roof of the world with threatening

dark whorls of incandescent rage.

A theatrical production of 

cataclysmic proportions seen

now and again and forevermore.

The impending storm of elements

in a moody clash drew nearer,

alerting the tenants on the floors

below that something menacing

was portending.  Worried upward

glances verified that the distant

clamour as of giants tossing

shafted bolts of fury at a hapless

target was drawing ever closer,

alarming those below of weak

disposition.  Those of more sturdy

stock safely cowering in their

homes, watched transfixed as

the giants tore wholesale pieces

of the sky to jab them at one

another, drawing appeals of 

mercy ignored as the vanquished

exploded in brilliant flashes of fire.