I am the river

Monday Morning Musings:

Delaware River with early morning clouds

I am the river

Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river. . .”
Jorge Luis Borges

Step by step, I travel,
the river my guide, an eagle far above
with broad wings outspread, glides out of sight—
I am envious, the music of a thousand shadows
is a whispered song.

We clutch at alluring promises
with unguarded hands, seize the cards,
moon and stars—hopeful–but
we are merely passengers—trust
is a guess, nothing sanctified.

Bread, thick and toasted,
spread with butter and blueberry jam
while the wind bites and the dry air crackles–
I’m surprised by the taste of summer,
sweet and blue.

Now the air
is cinnamon and peppermint,
wax drips from candles,
warm and pliable,
how quickly it becomes cold and stiff.

Azure June days become
December’s violet nights.
Giddy romance turns practical,
but still, your hands, your smile–
which is afterthought, dream or reality?


Another almost-Cadralor from Jane’s Random Words. The start of December has been fitful.
Sunny, then miserable. My husband came down with something VERY suddenly on Friday night. Itchy nose, sneezing, congestion. He took two COVID tests, but both were negative, and he feels better now. The morning is all off–our Ricky is at the vets having his teeth cleaned. I’m hoping that is it. It makes me anxious. I think Ricky and I both like our routines.

We watched The Souvenir, Part II. I liked it, but since my husband was not feeling well and didn’t remember Part I, it didn’t make much sense to him. The director, Joanna Hogg, has a new movie out, so I wanted to finally see this one.

Now that the third and final season of Dead to Me (Netflix) is out, we’re re-watching the first two seasons (already into the second).

Contemplation

The Girl by the Sea Hanno Karlhuber, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Contemplation

In autumn
music swirls violet in the gloaming,
the sound of leaf-rustle and shadowed things,
a fretting moon, rising between bare boughs
watching, lonely,
waiting for the sky-blossom of stars
to murmur
we are here

and I wonder if
on other planets, other worlds
tiny beings, like us dream

or could love our blue and green,
the stained-glass glow of light through trees,
the pull of tides, or feel
the slowing spinning of days and
the rush of years,
the joy in seeing the first daffodil.

My poem from the Oracle. She also got me confused with Jane and gave me “eat sausage with,” which I ignored.

When Winter Goes and Spring Arrives

She hums with cool beauty,
her whispered notes a silver stream
where trout-stars swim, or so I dream–

roof-fiddler in sky-blue; red-dawn’s flight
through charcoal-grey, the sight
of honeyed light

as winter goes, and now–
flowers color-pop their petal-heads, stand
to say hello

For Quadrille Monday at dVerse, where De asks us to use some form of the word go in a poem of 44 words.

The Brilliant Blush, and the Stars

Sunrise, National Park, NJ

The brilliant blush—

fire dancing and

 

the sky warms,

Ghost remembers this—

 

morning and joy

here awakened

 

in champagne clouds

breathing ocean air

 

I was like you—

so young–

 

haunted and not—

the sad slow whens–

 

but sail on

looking at the stars

 

embracing eternity,

almost

I had to get a message from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle before really getting started with my day.  But you can see that sometimes I do it in stages.  🙂

 

Screen Shot 2018-11-17 at 8.33.56 AM

Spring Magic: Tanka Tuesday

She dreams of springtime

sunshine kissing seeds and buds,

a season of hope

ensorcells her once again

to drift with cherry blossoms

 

Windswept_by_John_William_Waterhouse

John William Waterhouse, “Windswept,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

This is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday—using synonyms of charm and time.

Is it, Was it, Ever Thus?

Show me the beauty

beneath mist a thousand pictures,

in shadow whispers

time’s music urges, please

recall when,

and if—

was it so

or no?

 

Screen Shot 2017-10-14 at 12.23.12 PM

 

512px-Monet,_Claude_-_Waterloo_Bridge._Effect_of_Fog

Claude Monet, “Waterloo Bridge, Effect of Fog,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

The Oracle was being coy today. It took me a few attempts to coax anything from her, and then apparently she looked outside my window to see the misty day.