Petals on the Ground

We plucked the petals
And put them down
The reds and yellows
Gently on the ground
As we intoned
An old count-down

The beauty of a flower is
The life it holds
While purpose lives
Not in its petals
On the ground
Arranged so pretty
An artful mound

The Cool, Calm Light

In a darkened corner of my being
I discovered a cool, calm place
Protected from the heat of existence

That raging inferno
Of events
And despair

Perhaps the cool, calm place
Discovered me
I don’t know

I watch the flames rise
Into the cool night sky
Follow the path each spark flies
Tracing their frenetic yellow lines

I breathe a sigh
Stop asking why
Stop telling myself lies
Stop being so damn wise

They clamber up the mountainside
The lofty trees
With mighty boughs
And riffling leaves

Fir and cedar, conifers
And alder with its lighter leaf
Like steps of cones
All feathery

But my lens
Sees everything
Grand patterns lost
In details keen

Patterns of existence
Delight me

Some consider photography
The art of recording

Moments
Beauty
Reality

But I have always used
My camera to create them

The art of life
Provides a more difficult task

With the order
And beauty
Of an insight
Larger than I

The words come
The way lichen
Came to the rock

They come to me
Both words and lichen

So their beauty can be known

Buffeted
Unsteady
Windy air
Challenges
Equilibrium

Turned to it
Faced head on
Arms out wide
As if wings
Unfettered by Earth

Every now and again
I stop

I stop and look back
Along the path I’ve travelled

Not to see where I’ve been
Not to linger on what I’ve done
Not to consider the path I’ve followed

I want to see
What fell out of my peripheral vision
What cannot be seen moving forward

To be where I want to go
I seek a path
Which takes me there
There is always a way

Though I may have to fly
Rather than drive
I may have to walk
Rather than bicycle