Opal Reflections
Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
Macrospore
Fungus, toadstool, spore
Dreaded, craved, or mere ignored
More than what I seem.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Surprise
Carry
After an exhaustively satisfying jaunt to Disney Springs, we return to our Polynesian Paradise, with visions of plunging into a refreshing Oasis Pool.
This photo captures many emotions for me, transporting me back to the warmth of that day; tasty lunch on the deck of the Boathouse, our traditional “Downtown” shopping and snacking adventures, and how we all giggled at my comedic sprint to catch the bus. It was a memorable day.
But I see more, in this candid snapshot: I see a mom, who despite her aching muscles and parcels full of goodies, still manages to find the strength to lift her son (as he feigns exhaustion). I see his teenage brother, nearly as tall as Mom, selflessly sharing the pretend burden. I see a family with arms entwined, leaning on each other, helping each other, and knowing that they complete and are completely secure with each other.
I see years of nourished love, joy in the moment, and the promise of the future.lt was a memorable day, indeed!
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/carry/
I repost this photo, in response to this week’s WordPress photo Challenge: SECURITY
The Maze
She, tempted by the lure of the unknown,
And yet she feared the secrets held within,
She should have turned away, she should have flown.
Aroma cedars bunched, full overgrown,
Soft and nestling teased her to come in,
She, tempted by the lure of the unknown,
The sign was clear, the entrance etched in brown
Split-fence contained the shrubs by mere linchpin,
She should have turned away, she should have flown.
Into the labyrinth, hand-in-hand with groom,
They, anxious for their new life to begin,
Strong tempted by the lure of the unknown,
She nudged the creaking gate but all too soon,
The maze’s mystery lured her far from him,
She should have turned away, she should have flown.
Some say he wanders still, in painful moan
bewildered, love was lost, what might have been?
Once tempted by the lure of the unknown,
She should have turned away, she should have flown.
Buttercups
In striving for fulfillment, seeking light,
She almost overlooked the golden blonde,
For brilliance oft confuses, blurring sight.
Throughout her teenage years the buds so slight,
Wee blossoms rose from lush and limpid ponds,
She sought fulfillment, ever seeking light.
Against the glistening of the leafy heights
From dewy droplets clinging to her fronds,
For brilliance oft confuses, blurring sight.
Her bridal gown adorned by lilies white,
Yet she chose gay bouquet of golden wands,
She craved fulfillment, ever seeking light.
As mother, full with child, she strolled the heights,
Sought buttercups for life’s unbreaching bond,
For brilliance oft confuses, blurring sight.
And so today as golden years bedight,
She pauses, soft remembering beyond,
In striving for fulfillment, seeking light,
Though brilliance oft confuses, blurring sight.
weekly Photo Challenge: it IS easy being green.
photo Friday: #water
American Eagle
While visiting the beautiful city of Indianapolis last week for a basketball game between our beloved Seton Hall Pirates and Butler, we made an unexpected stop at the “9/11 Memorial”, that had been erected in the middle of the city.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, the events of that morning more than fifteen years ago engulfed my consciousness. The memorial is exquisite, recounting each detail of the dramatically devastating event that was 9/11.
The sky in Indianapolis was a brilliant blue with angel-white fluffy clouds; eerily reminiscent of the 9/11 sky, when I became an unwitting witness from my onboard window seat of my continental flight, as it soared northward from Newark Airport, en route to Providence.
This photo attempts to capture the awe-inspiring vision of the centerpiece of the Memorial: a life-sized American Eagle sculpture, perched atop a structural steel beam, recovered from the World Trade Center.
Spring Sightings
Reflections glimmer,
Shimmering on thawing stream,
Winter fades to spring.
Photo Friday: #reflection
Made for Each Other
Each year as Christmas time swoops swiftly in,
With hectic shopping sprees at malls and such,
Unlike my friends, I spare myself chagrin,
And opt instead to add a personal touch.
I raid my stash (I never have too much),
To find the perfect fiber for his gift
A cover warm with softness to the touch,
So through my bins of yarn I gaily sift.
The pattern that I’d chosen, needs a twist,
And comfy threads that stand up to abuse,
These skeins of blue were added to my list,
My twist-knot Afghan soon to reproduce.
At last the project’s done, a work of art,
And Bandit adds his essence, from the heart.
I love knitting presents for family, like this beautiful Afghan I knitted for Jack, my daughter’s “Honey”. I carefully laid out my masterpiece on the bed, in preparation for final stages of blocking, labeling and wrapping. Turning my back for a moment, I suddenly realized that something was amiss. My handsome Bandit had decided to claim it for himself. The look on his face as he nestled atop my work of art, speaks volumes.
Who Am I?
Mid jokes and jibes of thriving in the dark,
Beneath peat moss and soggy, brown terrain,
I rise near unperceived, yet here I be,
Surviving rapid spinners, I remain.
I’m often thought a nuisance causing dire
consequences, if ingested by mistake,
But you should know that I’m the harmless growth,
And you may reap my harvest (for your steak).
As you set me gently ‘top the stove
Before the bubbling butter coats my fronds,
You may pause to notice that I’m more
than spores collected from damp, soggy ponds.
Simplicity, complexly interlaced,
And when the light is right, I share my grace.
Reflections
Sunlight streaming in remained unseen,
Because my eyes were blinded by the light,
Then wakened senses opened to the gleam.
Day after day, I wandered past the scene,
Oblivious to simple gifts in sight,
Sunlight streaming in remained unseen.
In search of inner peace and calm serene,
I ran from daily strife and urge to fight,
Then wakened senses opened to the gleam.
Mirrored planes compound the echoed stream,
Reflected silhouettes do oft excite,
Still, sunlight streaming in remained unseen.
A polished vase, some wispy leaves of green,
Are leaning in to open buds of white,
Then wakened senses opened to the gleam.
Unblinded, I’m amazed, not what it had seemed,
As afternoon waned, bathed sills in Fahrenheit,
Though, sunlight streaming in was once unseen,
My wakened senses opened to the gleam.
Photo Friday: #sunlight
Split Decision
Balmy afternoon spawns thoughts of Spring,
(though groundhog claims a few more wintry weeks)
But during full-moon sleep, the world turned white,
Erasing leaves of grass and leafy trees.
My puppy licked his sno-cone from the sill,
Carved prints betrayed my deer-hooved migrant guests,
The feeders hung near top the blanket ground,
And rocker sits snow-stranded ‘cross the deck.
I turn to seek the sheltered warmth inside,
delaying only briefly for my pup,
who’s found a way to high-jump through the banks
of newly-fallen, freshly sprinkled snow.
As if in afterthought I spin around,
And glimpse white, frozen pot with glorious crown.
Photo Friday: #red
Full of Grace
A single flower beckons from the brambles,
Serenely minuscule, near overlooked,
But like a distant star against the night sky,
She shines more brightly ‘gainst the brown-branched brook.
Her simple, graceful petals, far from garish,
Convey a purity, unmarred by man
or passing wilde-beast who might have trampled,
I wonder where she matters in God’s plan.
His eye is surely on the chirping sparrow,
Yet smaller, and more helpless opes this bloom,
Her lifespan hardly more than blink of eye,
But had I passed her by, I’d never have known.
A song of inspiration (I was listening)
caused me pause to spy the bud a-glistening.
Motion
Spinning, spiral sails
Measured motion, wafting winds
Water from the well.
Photo Friday: #motion
The windmill at Peddlar’s Village stands tall and silent, against the dramatic, wispy-clouded sky of Bucks County.
Lighthouse in the Mist, Cape May, NJ
Bandit
Festive View from the Pub, Peddler’s Village – Lahaska, PA.
Home Sweet Home
Opal Reflections 