This tree on the shore of Lake Ella in Tallahassee is my favorite of all the trees I have ever known. It’s massive and friendly and magnificent. I call this one, “Tree of My Heart.”
Tag: nature
Snapshot #78
Here it is, the fabled, “End of the Road.”
Perfume
Crisp as lemongrass,
fresh as the scent of mown hay;
nature’s own Chanel.
Ozone scented sky
charged by electricity
and airborne spirits.
Earthy loam and soil,
the tangs of birth, life, and death,
ashes to ashes.
Snapshot #5
On a walk in my neighborhood I spotted a small bush with some intriguing butterflies visiting. Isn’t he handsome? I call this one “Date with a Stranger.”
Peace, people!
What Does the Fox Say?
What Does the Fox Say?
Apparently this one just said, Zzzzzzzzz! I discovered the gray fox at the Tallahassee Museum Thursday morning, as he indulged in a nap while nestled in the fork of a tree.
To be honest, I didn’t see him, so well did he blend with his surroundings, until a little girl pointed him out to her grandparents, and I was lucky enough to benefit from her sharp eyes.
Below is the photo before I edited it to make Mr. Fox more visible. He was well camouflaged, eh?
I’ll post more from the museum over the next two weeks.
Peaceful Eve
within the hour, sun will slip
below trees’ ruffled edge
and froggy songs exuberant
hold court on center stage.
woods and lake commune in joy
as day’s light softly fades
through oaken leaves reflected there
in still water’s patient gaze.
paradise exacts a price
its beauty never owned
only borrowed for the briefest time
when evening light turns gold.
peace, people.
Color Me Lonely
Once the sun sets over Lake Yvette the sky takes on a subdued tint, filtered through a green
Glass, vintage Coke bottle. Stillness supersedes movement in the magic time between
Day and night. No leaves rustle. No animals stir. Deep silence permeates until broken
By the trill of a lone bird. Here I am, he calls. I rule the evening. Hear my plea, oh Lord.
I try to answer him, but we speak different dialects of the same language. Hear me, I cry. Nothing more.
Alone
If someone had told me
when I was sixteen
and insecure
that I’d come to enjoy
my own company more
than that of others
I’d have laughed.
Loud and long and clear.
But here I am perched
on the deck, watching
the fish jump and the birds
swoop. There’s not another
human in sight. And that’s
the best part. Just me, the
lake, the fish and my
fondest memories.
Evening Lake Haiku
Green cast of twilight
birds’ song floating from tall trees
forest peace descends
Lake without ripples
leafy reflections confound
filtered light descends
Red chairs keeping watch
over sunset’s still water
silent guardians
Frog Talk And Wonder Woman
Studly Doright is still snoring. I’m sitting on the screened in porch, sipping my coffee and waiting for the sun to rise. It’ll be at least another half hour before the lake gets any rays, and the darkness is deep. I wouldn’t venture out past the back door just yet; although, I imagine Wonder Woman wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.
The frogs are busy. They don’t croak. They click and clack and chirp. Some sound like those pendulum desk toys with metal balls bouncing off one another faster and faster, louder and louder, until they suddenly cease as if a large hand has intervened in the laws of physics.
When the amphibians’ chatter ends, birds begin tentatively singing their morning songs. Some contribute lilting melodies while others sound vaguely like annoying car alarms. Where is the giant’s hand?
The sky has begun to lighten and the squirrels are dancing in the dry leaves as my cat Patches attends to their every move. I imagine in her dreams she chases them down and gives them a good scolding.
I really don’t want to move from this spot, but even Wonder Woman has work to do.
Peace, and good morning, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 