Opal Reflections
Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
Behind The Brick-red Barn
My tote-sac always stocked, prepared to fly,
Escape to spur-of-moment quietude,
Where out of sight (and out of mind, perchance),
I gather wool, behind my brick-red barn.
The beauty and bucolic balm pervades
my deeply hidden, inner sanctum dreams
With sticks and string I turn each stitch; I knit
in thoughtful retrospection, oft in prayer.
Schubert (noodling in my brain) replays
Impromptu insights, pierce to calm my soul,
While breathing in this brisk October morn,
As autumn’s arms entwine, renew, revive.
The wood-white resting stop, whereon I lay,
Is comfort, more than chaise or chair could be,
Whilst leaning on one arm, I loll and languish
‘Top the aged, soft and grainy treads beneath.
I sense that I am not at all alone
A “Monarch” flits ecstatic, here and there
Alit at last upon my red-barn step, to share
my private perch, to gently co-exist.
My tote-sac always stocked, prepared to fly,
Escape to spur-of-moment quietude,
Where out of sight (and out of mind, perchance),
I gather wool, behind my brick-red barn.
Lighthouse in the Mist, Cape May, NJ
Bandit
Festive View from the Pub, Peddler’s Village – Lahaska, PA.
Home Sweet Home
Opal Reflections 