Opal Reflections
Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
Connections
This gay town scene, a circus comes to town,
And all from miles around meet in the square,
Children climbing trees to find a throne
from which to spy the simple pleasures there.
We’re all connected, pieces interlocked,
The whole becoming more than parts alone,
Foundations ever built on stable rock,
Enabling each to blossom full, when grown.
It takes a village, as in my memory
of cozy, cottage porches and cafes,
It takes a village, now I clearly see
The bonds and mores that defined my days.
Photo101
Day 6: Connections
Shadow Games
These morning treks to catch the waking sun,
Have ever given unexpected rise
to seeing that which oft remains unseen,
Until my eyes are opened to surprise.
I clicked until the fiery star had climbed
beyond horizon, just above the trees,
So turning to return to distant dorm,
My shutter sought to shoot this fleeting scene.
Before me spread the endless playing fields
Resting still and vacant (pending games),
And casting vast ‘fore me on dew-dropped green,
A shadow looming long and large (‘t was me)!
I know not what it signifies or means,
Or what great mystery I might have known,
But thought: “There’s something bigger than just me”,
A hint of timeless majesty was shown.
Photo101
Day 5: Solitary and Rule of Thirds
Blush of Bliss
Burgeoning blush-buds,
Whisper to a warring world
Silent prayer for peace.
Photo101
Day 4: Bliss and Captions
Bliss: complete happiness, great joy, paradise, or heaven.
Shore Lines of Sight
Two shorelines clinging close to “Brightwood” lake,
And wait so I may choose which path to take,
For on the left a fisher-person’s dream,
Sure footing, toss my line into the stream,
But on the right a picnic spot awaits,
And marshy coves where ducklings paddle straits,
Yet Frost reminds, “I’ve promises to keep,”
And splintered bridge bades: “Look before you leap!”
Photo101, Day Three: Water & Orientation
Lament for a Letterbox
The path is straight, no risk of straying far
‘tween fence ‘long-side and safety strip of green,
An arrow points to town, but here I stay,
Content meander round this ‘hood, my scene.
I see the handprints molded ‘long the way,
’t was years ago those children fought for space,
Today they’re off to college or to play,
and life goes on, it thrives, as crosswalks gleam.
The letter box no longer stands as guard,
And speeding cars now steer, oblivious
to walkers too pedestrian to be seen.
Yet we don’t lose our way, we take our walk,
Protected on the right and from the left,
This our lovely corner of the street,
We stroll with doggie nipping at our feet.
***
Photo101: Day 2 – Street
Harmony
Here, on this slanting shoreline, gazing past
Arbors draping graceful o’er the path,
Reflecting on reflected azure skies, as
Marble cliffs shear, rising steep and vast,
On watery surface, sparkling crystalline
No sound disturbs the placid reverie,
Yearnings deep combine in harmony.
WordPress, Postaday, Weekly photo Challenge
Structural Simplicity
Yarn over, two together, knit as one,
Despite mere silken threads, the structure stays,
Each filament enmeshed, complexly spun.
At outset seeming too complex for some,
Yet still, alluring grace lures all to play,
Yarn over, two together, knit as one.
One’s hesitance subsides when once begun,
As tender leaflets form a weblike spray,
Each filament enmeshed, complexly spun.
Each day another layer built upon,
Each week another segment on display,
Yarn over, two together, knit as one.
Begun with stitches three, increase ’til done,
As replicating patterns lead the way,
Each filament enmeshed, complexly spun.
Off-needles, blocked, each wisp-of-end neat sewn,
When puppy settles in, prepared to stay!
Each filament enmeshed, complexly spun
Yarn over, two together, knit as one.
Each filament enmeshed, complexly spun.
******
My “Bandit” settles in on my just-completed Haruni shawl. I don’t really mind, though, seeing the look of sheer contentment on his cute, little face. After all, this knitted masterpiece can withstand A few puppy snuggles because it is a marvel of simplicity and structural integrity.
Photo Friday: Structural
Winter White
One wintry day, so many years ago,
A fragile life within strained to breathe free,
We ventured forth to simply stroll in snow,
So young, this burgeoning family of three.
How could we know that day filled with esprit,
Our simple lives would never be the same,
Assuming that a boy-child soon would be,
A blanket knit in blue secured our plan.
But nature had its clock and set the span
O’er which sweet babe in my womb would thrive,
Mid-winter birthday, though it was the plan,
Surprised us, nonetheless, as “She” arrived.
A tribute to the woman she’s become,
Today I gift this knitted, lace-white drape,
It’s so like her: complex, each wispy strand
enmeshed, entwined, creates a wondrous scape.
We’re proud of her, her grace, her lovely soul,
Begun that snow white day we took a stroll.
Happy Birthday, Stephanie!
Photo Friday: White
Tranquil
Tree limbs gently arching o’er the path
Reaching to us, beckoning: “Please come!”
As portal to a secret unknown place
Neath which we’re tugged, encouraged toward the light
Questions fall away, their sound un-uttered
Unanswered, yet uncertainties are cleared
Intrinsic and instinctive knowledge comes
Langorously leaning, leading home.
Photo Friday: TRANQUIL
Moon-Star
Amid the noise, distractions of these days,
I oft begin to sense the churn, my head
aching, tightening, gripping me in waves
of undulating urgency and dread.
The pundits and prognosticators plead,
Conspiracies abound with buzz and malice,
And failing to rebuke the blaring bleats,
I turn in early; sleep should bring some solace.
But no, another restless night, but promise
to embrace this morn, to leave the noise behind,
Like “star” of Frost, seek height, accept the chalice,
Steel myself from onslaughts of the mind.
Outside the pre-dawn air bids raise my eyes,
It’s been there all the time; at peace I sigh.
Photo Friday: Height
*****
While rehearsing for an upcoming Masterworks concert “Forest and Vale“, I was moved to tears. Randall Thompson’s music does, indeed, do justice to the words of Robert Frost.
Choose Something Like a Star by Robert Frost
O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud—
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says, ‘I burn.’
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats’ Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.
Empathic Eyes
He speaks (though no one hears his words save me),
He’s conscious of my own subconscious cues,
I know not how he senses what’s to be,
Before I breathe or move, he knows the clues.
His inner clock is more precise and truer
than the most sophisticated Swiss,
Reminding me: “Replenish bowls!” Amused,
I dish the kibble with a forehead kiss.
Perchance some afternoon if I might miss
his daily walk, he’ll nudge with warm brown eyes
and head a-tilt; he’s pleading “pretty please”,
And once again I’m driven to comply.
Though I may be his master this I tell,
That he speaks to my heart, he’s trained me well.
Photo Friday: Eyes
Lighthouse in the Mist, Cape May, NJ
Bandit
Festive View from the Pub, Peddler’s Village – Lahaska, PA.
Home Sweet Home
Opal Reflections 