Opal Reflections
Perspectives through Prose, Poetry and Photography
Repurposed Life
A weathered greenhouse, built to shield, protect
young specimens within, from wintry wind,
To magnify and golden rays project,
Injuring seedlings from the seasons’ clime.
Hardy pots reside outside, aligned
along the curb, or sheltered from the fray,
Beneath the wooden, weathered, a-framed splines,
Broad streaks of silver, aging shades of gray.
Ironically these planks once lived their day,
as those they now protect from such a fate,
‘Til hewn, fresh green; stripped, sanded, hauled away,
To live again, roof boards above the gate.
I cannot know the span of life and times,
I can but only read between the lines.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Weathered
Sister Selfie
My sister and I meet regularly at McLoone’s Boat House, a local, waterside eatery.
We usually take a table on the patio, breathing in the clear, crisp air and watching the ducks’ and geese repetitive comings and going. Hawks circle high above the fountain spray, with fluffy pillowed-clouds as their backdrop, while the Turtle Back Zoo transport toot-toots it’s way around the far edge of the lake.
After snapping a selfie, we raise our glasses; toasting to our families, our 10 grandchildren, life’s ups and downs, or just being here, together again. We snap a “Sisters” selfie.
On this day, though the fast-approaching cold front has kept us indoors, we, none the less, sit and sip – two sisters; laughing, crying, caring and sharing.
Photo Friday: #weather
Here Comes The Moon
On the eve of The Masterwork Chorus’ “Masterwork Mania”(a fundraiser program of Beatles music), I am sitting in a hospital room, knowing that I won’t be joining my fellow choristers, this time around. A sudden onset of diverticulitis has temporarily derailed me. A consolation is that my room on the 10th floor has a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline in the distance. On this night (last night) of a near-full Moon, I stumbled to the window with I.V. paraphernalia rolling along, to snap this picture with my iPhone.
Peeking at the golden moon, near full,
It rises strong and clear o’er distant lights,
Wistful, from my bed in hospital,
The view is grand and serves to ease my plight.
Was only yesterday, was just last night,
They poked and prodded, plied their therapy,
Prepared a bed and read my Patient’s Rights,
I settled in, resigned to “let it be”
Two days and nights have passed since “yesterday”
When “long and winding road” led to this place
“When I (was) 64” I romped and played,
but “in my life” learned each new day embrace.
Tonight, my friends will raise their voice as one,
Tomorrow, I will sing: “here comes the sun”!
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/peek/
Traveler
Traversing over pebbled, stick-strewn treads,
While on my daily walk, out in the wild,
I came to where the road diverged ahead
And mused which way; then paused, in awe, beguiled.
You’d think a was a young ‘un, just a child
entranced by stories told of wise old trees,
My visions, dreams and fantasies took hold,
I could almost hear it speak to me.
Arms held outstretched “come this way to be free,”
As endline posts seemed pointed to the goal,
Was I a traveler or an invitee
into the deeper woods, to heal my soul?
A unicorn I did not chance to see,
Yet something mystical embued this tree.
Photo Friday:#travel
Come from Away
Escape intended from the ordinary din,
From endless lines aligning “Great White Way”,
We duck inside, and escalate within
To eighth floor lounge, no more or less, we strayed.
A bite to eat, a sip of wine perchance,
A strategy to while away the time,
Our curtain was at three, no time to dance
But just enough to taste fruit of the vine.
The space was nondescript, save for Times Square,
Wide, uninspiring booth-lets framed the bar,
I sighed, slipped off my pumps, leaned back my chair,
And all at once beheld a man-made Star.
Exquisite clear glass orbs on hair-thin strings,
Nestled close together, yet apart,
As light from lucent, ceiling bulbs down-streamed,
To cast an astral glow across the dark.
Too often we prejudge, no time to waste,
We oft might miss such beauty, in our haste.
*****
We ventured to the city to see “Come From Away” last Sunday, and rather than stand on line for an hour, we decided to pop in to the Marriott Marquis for a ‘sip’. While I was, at first, unimpressed by the ambiance of the 8th floor lounge, thankfully, I looked up and voila!
I didn’t release until after the inspiring and emotional show, that this light fixture was somehow consistent with the story of those who came from ‘away’ on 9-11.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Glow
The Luck of the Draw
She loves me (yes!) she loves me not (oh no!)
She does love me, (the petals tell it true),
Another pull: she loves me not (please no!)
A few more left, the end I’ll surely rue.
She loves me (as my expectations rise),
She loves me not (I know it can’t be right),
She loves me (still, again, I fear surprise),
She loves me not (my heart betrays my fright).
(At last) the last, soft, petal-tug replayed…
She loves me, yes, she loves me, still today!
photo Friday:#Vivid
These lovely flowers were amid the blooms in our 50th wedding anniversary bouquets. After all these years, I need not depend on the wisdom of the flowers or the luck of the draw to confirm that my loves, does, indeed, love me. Truth be told, I didn’t need it 50 years ago either. Some truths are timeless, I guess.
Perpetuity
Standing, on the brink of this vast expanse, I muse: does the ocean carry with it the memories of all that it’s crept up on and swallowed whole; perhaps not in a single gulp but with each incessant wave, as morsels of mortal life are swept away, consumed? Does it remember? Does it care? Today, its beauty is awesome, its latent power, staggering. Today the undulating ocean is calm, gently rocking my frayed nerves into acceptance and resolve.
Nature’s wrath transformed
Soothing, sympathetic salve,
Ephemeral footprints.
We are grains of sand in the continuum of life: each speck, a universe unto itself; each footprint, a slice of time; each breaker, a reminder of our limits and of our limitless possibilities. The past is written and another page has been turned. A blank sheet awaits the certain indentation of our pen stroke. Today is a washed-clean slate. Each moment is prelude to limitless imaginings.
Chalk on a blackboard
Written, erased, writ again,
New, never ending.
Photo Friday:#monochrome
Pedestrians
These breezy dawns of damp and shifting grains
Compel us to return, these endless days,
Bare-footed and bare-pawed, we stroll the same,
unpaved path of swirling, breaking waves.
In solitude (we wish we could allay
the inevitable masses, as the light
erases misty morns of predawn gray),
we two rejoin, to bid adieu to night.
My dog and I alone, save gulls in flight,
God’s precious gift of dawn conveyed anew,
Our secret place (alas we cannot fight
the overwhelmingly draw of this vast view).
Let others stroll on boardwalks wide and grand,
Our footprints, we’ll impress on fresh-ebbed sand.
Lighthouse in the Mist, Cape May, NJ
Bandit
Festive View from the Pub, Peddler’s Village – Lahaska, PA.
Home Sweet Home
Opal Reflections 