Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Drawing inspired by,
A joint project of three artists.(see June18 post).





Monday, June 27, 2011

Wrens, bees, flowers and June





While watching the growing,
 the mid summer is tipping over


lush pockets of color


activity at a bird house



four little wrens


the instinct to care and to nurture




 bees gather nectar,
bending the crown vetch and
lift her perfume to the sun filled sky



sharp shadows, cast
by the overhead sun



Glorious mid summer!
Glorious June!


Thursday, June 23, 2011

I came across this poem from gifted poet Mary Oliver,
and was inspired to create a quick sketch.


Five A.M. in the Pinewoods
I'd seen
their hoofprints in the deep
needles and knew
they ended the long night
under the pines, walking
like two mute
and beautiful women toward
the deeper woods, so I
got up in the dark and
went there. They came
slowly down the hill
and looked at me sitting under
the blue trees, shyly
they stepped
closer and stared
from under their thick lashes and even
nibbled some damp
tassels of weeds. This
is not a poem about a dream,
though it could be.
This is a poem about the world
that is ours, or could be.
Finally
one of them — I swear it! —
would have come to my arms.
But the other
stamped sharp hoof in the
pine needles like
the tap of sanity,
and they went off together through
the trees. When I woke
I was alone,
I was thinking:
so this is how you swim inward,
so this is how you flow outward,
so this is how you pray.

~ Mary Oliver ~



Thursday, June 16, 2011

While drawing in my sketchbook yesterday,
strange shapes took form.

A memorable scene from a cherished movie.
Can you guess?




Saturday, June 11, 2011

St. John of the Cross speaks to my heart

Continuing interpretations of the Canticle- St. John of the Cross 
through drawings.








Thursday, June 09, 2011

Just beyond the trees



at the edge of town is a watery world that 
I like to visit, and on a
sunny day in early June, I went there.




 I sit at the waters edge and am soon rewarded.


There, do you see?




 You hang suspended with your golden eye
and I hold my breath


and am suspended with you...
motionless


  this moment.


 this waters edge.



The air is humid and a breeze stirs the
Cattails now and then while Cottonwood seeds drift
slowly by..
Wet smell of pond reflecting light
I enter your world.














Thursday, June 02, 2011