The air
Briny scent of death
The water
Still, thick with salt
The sand
Crusted, brittle, shards sharp underfoot
But the skies
Azure brushed with cirrus wash
And the sun
A hot glitter off the ripples
A beach day
Nonetheless
Tag: United States of America
Skittering
Sunlight skitters
Off the rippled lake
As a flat stone thrown
From a practiced hand
Diminution
I prefer the kind of spirituality
Which harbours no intention
To make me feel small
Or subject to the judgment of others
Not even gods
Just as I have no desire
To judge anyone
Not even myself
A condition
Which I am ever on the path
Of unlearning
The Expanse of Rural Life
An expanse of green
And brown beyond
Soon again to be green
Above
A sky
Promising the gift of rain
A smattering of structures
For shelter, work and storage
All to service the green
Occupants come and go
Seasons of family
And movement
Change
The cycle of life
Plays out in a rural field
Far from city markets
Warped ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #325
I enter a cathedral
As if into warped space
Not warped as a physicist might think
But as in how a mystic might think
That is, a spiritual space or dimension
Bent, folded and manipulated
To conform to a specific configuration
Long ago transcribed into books
From collective memories
Predating written language
Aside from a certain wonder
At the passion and dedication
To the exquisite expression
Of humanity’s greater achievements
In art and architecture
A cathedral reminds me
Of the power of group thinking
For both good and ill
How this can become a tight leash
On an individual whose spirit
Simply refuses to conform
But it also reminds me
Of the exultant satisfaction
I experienced
When I finally broke the leash
Chose my own path
And found my way to a spiritual space
Which conformed to me
Not that I am without
My own warped sense of spiritual dimension
But the distortion is familiar to me
Has meaning for me
And brings me to a place of peace
One of Many Paths to Goodness
Raised beneath
Steeples and spires
Kneeling Sitting Standing
In pews row on row
First Holy Communion
Confirmation
Confession
Ash Wednesday
Palm Sunday
Incense and palm leaves
Midnight Mass
Now another confession:
Never a believer
Earliest memories
Saying what was expected
Doing what was expected
Praying aloud the lie on my lips
Though there were Pastors
Two at least
Who made as much
A philosophy of sermon
As theology
Who bespoke love
And compassion
Forgiveness
And kindness
As if these were as important
As believing in Father, Son and Holy Ghost
I kept the compassionate love
Discarded the trinity
And for a long while
Wanted nothing to do
With religion
Or the religious
Until I finally saw
The strength faith gives my mother
Courage, resilience, tenacity
Powered by compassion, love and kindness
All in God’s name
Now I understand
Something about the nature of goodness
And the many paths we may travel
To bring ourselves to the love
Which is its foundation
Always
Some scenes defy description
Even a photograph
Cannot capture them
Sometimes you just have to be there
In the moment
No. Always be in the moment
No words can describe a scene
Or a moment
No photograph
Can transport me to a place in time
Or fill me with the grace of presence
Sunrise Sojourn
I wake
Into darkness
Scramble out of the tent
Enough time to boil water
Coffee
Cereal
Almond milk
The breakfast of
Car camping
Photographers
Pre-dawn
On the horizon
Time to go
Camera bag
Tripod
Fresh brew in the travel mug
On the way
Not far from the campground
Dawn demands a stop
Unexpected glory
In a few hurried frames
Then to the switchbacks
Moki Dugway
Rising twelve hundred feet
Straight up Cedar Mesa
From the top
With the wide zoom
And the fisheye
Then, this one here
On the middle zoom
Expected glory
Deep sigh of success
And anticipation
For the work which takes
A latent image of RAW bits
To the finished photograph
Here
Golden Gods
The golden hues of sunrise
Seem always
Somehow
More precious
Than the golden goodbye
Of sunset
Half the Sky is Stars
As the day fails to black
Half the sky is stars
Half is clouds
Which continue to roll in
Soon enough so thick
Even a half moon couldn’t peek through
Were there a moon at all
But I’m grateful for the stars
Too the clouds
Behind which
Twinkling pinpricks in the blackness
Play hide-and-seek
With star gazers like me
In the quiet heat of the night
Pix to Words 
