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.
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 02, 2011