Snow dusts the hills
Rice flour on sourdough crust
Endless patterns
In burnished bronze
No subject
No object
No meaning
The explorer’s
Essential pleasure
Existential textures
Tag: United States of America
Diminution
Even at this narrowest end
The breadth and depth
Of the canyon
Makes Earth
Feel
small
Wonder in the Little Things
In the midst
Of expansive glory
She finds wonder
In the smallest
Little things
It is that smallest
Little thing
About her
I love
Most
Friendship ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #332
Celebrate the joy
Shared with friends
On an adventure
Making a meal
Out of life
Sometimes a Flood
A trickle
Where sometimes a flood
In a land grown thirsty
While from the sun falls
Torrents of heat
And light
In a valley
Deeper than shadow
Shadow Selfie
I have to admit there are an overabundance of road pics in my catalogue, photographs in which various streets, highways, byways and gravel tracks from my travels serve as the primary subject of a landscape. Mind you, I’m not apologizing for that. We photograph and write about what we know and love, and I love few things more than being behind the wheel of a car (or pedaling a bicycle) through unknown country. Over 40+ years of driving and cycling I’ve amassed several hundreds of thousands of miles wheeling on just about every road surface imaginable.
Safe to say, I know roads.
Smooth ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #331
Smooth gravel
Through sparse country
Makes me happy
Stormy Solitude
Rain abated
Dimpled sand dries in Rorschach patches
Sky a mottled grey
A single darkened cloud
Mimics patterns in the sand
Some might wish for the sun
To feel the heat on their skin
Or rising from the scalding sand
Secure in the haven of a beach towel
Beneath an umbrella in a sea of beachgoers
But I prefer this solitude
Shared only with the rumbling surf
And the gull idling by
On the penetrating wind
Which tousles my knotting hair
Draw my windbreaker tight against the insistent chill
Rub some warmth into my thighs through the denim
All the while engaging the impression
That I have this spectacular planet
All to myself
Surf Song
With gentle insistence
The ocean rises up to greet me
And I, pant legs rolled to my calves
Welcome it’s cool, frothy embrace
Enjoy the caress of water over my ankles
The sensation of sinking into the sand
As the receding wave draws the beach
From beneath my feet
I stay there for an hour or so
Take a few steps back
When the waves threaten my trousers
A few steps forward
When they fail to reach me
My sandpiper dance
In time with the surf song
And its choir of gulls
Ashore
The world comes apart a little
As I drag myself up onto the shore
Desperate to make the high tide line
Before exhaustion consumes my consciousness
Which seems already sparsely rational
The flood tide saved me
Put land within my reach
But while the Moon is a compassionate Goddess
The Sea Lord is greedy
And eagerly awaits Her waning influence
To drag me back to His depths
Hand over hand I crawl
Wet sand beneath my nails
Sodden clothes a sullen weight
Every laboured breath sputters salt water
Until my eyes roll back
With a final thought
I hope this is far enough
Pix to Words 