Tag: travel
Ming Sha Shan
I have heard
The ocean’s sigh
And witnessed
Ripples on its shores
The shushing waves
Left in repose
The ocean’s sigh
And witnessed
Ripples on its shores
The shushing waves
Left in repose
Hoodoo Sentinel
I have weathered aeons
Storms and
The gentlest breath of air
Stripped me down
To barest essence
Through all that
Have I watched
The comings and goings
Of the living
Mysteries Locked Inside
Three doorways nestled
Among the flame trees
Ornate, proud and beckoning
Mysteries locked inside
My Muses: Ruins
What I love about ruins most is the gestures of grandeur or utility they once were, the stories of their use, of their place in a time and society which no longer exists. I love them for the markers of history they are, here, now — in the present — how they act as transporters to another time, another place.
A million parallel universes
In 1996, standing atop Coit’s Tower, I scanned the city’s skyline, thinking about nearly a million souls living there, working, playing, getting over a cold, making love, fighting, watching Gilligan’s Island re-runs, having pizza and beer with friends, perhaps even taking photos of Coit’s Tower.
Harry the Little Hurricane
Harry got his name when he was still a little swirl of wind and rain far out in the Atlantic. But Harry had aspirations. He wanted to become a grand vortex of mighty winds, driving the ocean in front of him far onto land. He wanted his rain to drown the land, far beyond his storm surge, his wind to blow down trees, powerlines, to blow the very walls off the buildings in his path.
Destruction, afterall, is what hurricanes like Harry do!
Leap of Faith
There is a place in Zion National Park. Angel’s Landing awaits you at the peak of a narrow band of rock thousands of feet tall. As exasperatingly beautiful as the view is, the hike … the hike is neither for the faint of heart, nor the squeamish of heights.
Sentinels
The stout white sentinel
Stood watch in the valley
A phalanx of clouds advancing
Ahead of the coming storm
Stood watch in the valley
A phalanx of clouds advancing
Ahead of the coming storm
“Don’t worry”
Said the stubby, tenacious conifer
“I’ve got your six”
His platoon murmuring support
The Wide Ochre Land
I’ve heard it famously referred to as the wide brown land, but to me it is an expanse of ochre and red, tones more descriptive of its character. Australia is a rich land, but not overly saturated. Intense, but not glaring. One goes to ground here, becomes part of the earth, lives at a walker’s pace. Immersed in a hot bath of air, the heat fills my lungs, reddens my flesh, soothes my spirit.
Pix to Words 