Opal Reflections
Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
Miniature
a glob of seaweed strewn upon the beach
lies wet and sparkling,
can it be
that mother nature’s deft and brilliant brush
Can far surpass mere mortal’s
inartful stroke?
Loss
Learning to become myself once more,
Learning he’s not here to calm my fears,
Mostly out of focus, strain to know,
Where is my path (between escaping tears)?
Thought I was secure through all the years,
We learned together how to build our life,
Through trials and triumphs, joys, regrets and jeers,
We made our way together through the strife.
My soul now pierced as if with jagged knife,
His life was wrested from my loving clasp,
His essence lingers, I remain his wife,
As I dismantle, shed, release my grasp.
Whist stranded, set adrift, pain permeates
Yet face the day, I must, to learn my fate.
Daily Post: Learning
Rare
Rare: Splurging on a special dinner at “Victoria and Albert”.
Rarer: Impeccably skillful presentation of our “Colgin 2003“, transported all the way from our NJ wine rack, where it had rested peacefully for over a decade (well worth the corkage fee)!
Rarer Still: Table-side coffee service – “Cona” process, brewed slowly, gently, and aromatically, as we indulged in delicate desserts.
Rarest of Them All: My husband of 49 years: friend, teacher, husband, father and grandfather – a rare and wonderful person.
Fallen Feather
This morn I spied a feather, frail and fine,
Upon the splintering deck rail, in the sun,
Whose slanting stream of light enhanced the spline,
Causing pause and leaving me awe-stunned.
What flutter-winged dove whose day begun
pursuing nuts and seeds, has flown away?
Yet wisps of mourning coos that’ve come and gone
Remain to add perspective to this day.
An alternate reality faint displayed,
Now viewed within the prism of dawn’s first light
When leaves and feathers double their arrays,
Yet all to soon will vanish in the night.
Shadows cling to all things, if we see,
They’re often more than they appear to be.
Photo Friday: Shadows
Good as Gold
Our travel bags retrieved, then tagged and packed,
Each year, this day, with only hours to go,
Filled, bulging piggy-banks have been attacked,
The countdown’s creeping to a dwindling low.
So many tasks to check before we go:
Alert the postman, stop the paper drop,
The Magical Express will need to know
our resort destination…but wait…STOP!
Important food provisions must be shopped,
As Grandma preps for special, in-flight treats:
Homemade chicken tenders, rest atop
the carrot cake and chilled nutritious eats.
But best of all, a prize for young and old,
Biscuits shaped like Mickey, good as gold!
Carry
After an exhaustingly 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
Infinity
It’s all in one’s perspective, stirred or calm,
No absolute to clear attempt define,
Are we the epicenter of our realm,
Or mere iotas in the breadth of time?
In awe of spacious skies and hues sublime,
Yet conscious that we’re specks of vast unknown,
The midst of nowhere or mere changing clime,
The macro view or long term fears intone.
The “nowhere” oxymoron’s just a moan,
The midst of which confounds the logic mind,
For “nowhere” must indeed be “somewhere” shown,
Infinity can never be confined.
I ponder long, with battl’ing sides of brain,
But choose to simply watch impending rain.
Photo Friday: The Middle of Nowhere
Land…(sea)…scape
The window opened wide as it will go,
Allowing sea salt air into my room,
Whilst verdant sentries stalwart, toe to toe,
Rustling regal guards that breathe “Hello”!
Photo Friday: Landscape 2016
This week’s prompt reminded me of that summer morning several weeks ago as I waiting for the BCI sectional rehearsal to begin, at the cliff-side “Angelus” rehearsal space of Salve Regina. The air was sticky and the room stuffy, until I was able to open the window a bit. As the salt air rushed in, I was struck by the symmetry of the line of shrubs that served as a verdant protection from the Atlantic breezes of the Cliff Walk.
Cagüenõ
She stood calm, in stark contrast to the rumbling, agitated heavens that served as her backdrop. She seemed to beckon:
“Come! Find shelter here with me.”
As we rode the bumpy coach from San Juan that would soon drop us off at our intended destination, the Creole city of Caguas, our tour guide explained the significance of this Taino tribute to the “… brave and working cagüeño woman.” Despite the less-than-smooth ride and soiled transport windows, I was compelled to snap this photo, as I was given a portal into Puerto Rico’s true beauty, which was to be found in understanding its people and their history.
Certainly, Puerto Rico’s beaches and hotels are lovely and the restaurants provide an authentic taste of Puerto Rican cuisine. But this bronze woman with extended arms in welcome, spoke to me. Perhaps it was the presence of massive and fast-encroaching storm clouds behind her; or maybe it was that she stood in the heart of a frenetic, congested intersection. She stood with outstretched arms, inviting us to enter her city; to learn of her ancestors and to find shelter from the storm in the narrow, cobblestoned streets and deceptively-vibrant structures of Caguas.
The seven pineapples amid the base fountains that surrounded her, symbolize the seven entrances and exits from Caguas; as if Caguas was seen the center of a star from which all worldly exposure emanated. In retrospect, I feel that this Taino woman is positioned well; to weather not only the tropical storms of climate, but also those potentially harsher storms, spawned from the political and economic realities facing Puerto Rico today.
Monument to the Indigenous Woman, by the artist and sculptress María Elena Perales. was inaugurated in 2001.
Choices
I’m drawn toward the crusty, clanging gate
While only yards ahead, an easy wall
stands stalwart, sturdy, rock on rock, in wait
for someone just like me, to heed the call.
A metaphor for problems that befall
and plague our humdrum, hapless times,
To heed the beck’ning of the wrought-arch portal,
Or opt instead, for rigid, rock-stacked climb.
It’s hard to know which way would yield sublime
returns, suspecting welcomes may be traps,
Perhaps it’s better to advance unseen,
And thus avoid a perilous mishap.
My caution is a fault, yet I believe,
Our choices matter, once they are conceived.
Lighthouse in the Mist, Cape May, NJ
Bandit
Festive View from the Pub, Peddler’s Village – Lahaska, PA.
Home Sweet Home
Opal Reflections 