After not venturing outside at all for weeks, I finally worked up the courage to take the elevator down to the basement and exit the back door, crossing the street to the park. My apartment windows face Broadway and the view this weekend was especially chilly and grey.
I figured the bitter wind and drizzle, plus the early hour, would keep the walkway fairly empty, and I was right. A few joggers, some dog walkers, a man with a shopping cart.
I could hear robins, and then two appeared on the path right in front of me. I was in a different time and space. The world had been returned to me in color, at least for half an hour on a Sunday morning.
outside it’s spring–
inside winter remains
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #132, Coronavirus.
where time meets
upon what? faded backdrops
absorb the opening when
shadowed by the hand–
narratives—so small and so
incompletely, barely, cast
For dVerse, Frank asked us to compose a poem ending with a couplet.
I hold out
my hands and wait for
the moon to
close my eyes to balance on
the edge of the light
myself, quiet the
the colors beyond darkness–
depths turned inside out
Shadorma for Colleen’s #Tanka Tuesday words, give and shake. Photos are of last night’s full moon as seen from the sidewalk in front of where I live.
Also linking to OLN at dVerse, hosted by Grace.
I think the Oracle was caught up in the memory of Sue Vincent’s waltz…
what we sing
blue moon music
not sad at all
she asked me to dance
beneath the whispered wind
shining through mist
like the still light
after a storm
What better dance partner than the moon?
The sky is a mist of blue ghosts rising from the sea. The sky is a blanket of sparkling light that appears suddenly as if conjured by the fading horizon. The sky is a layered curtain of shadow clouds that both disguise and reveal.
I sit without time, listening, watching. My body retreats from itself, my thoughts lose their words. I am lost, dispersed, nameless.
I become like the wind, seeking its reflection. I become like waves repeating their primal dance. I become like sand searching for the spaces between.
I float, a grain inside my eye.
I dreamt I was the moon, a sudden seizure of oceans traveling the spirals of shells. I dreamt I was a relic from the sea, worn away into a celebration of return. I became my ancestors, unburied and uncontained, released into the sanctuary of the cosmic coil.
Sarah at dVerse has given us the prosery prompt “I dreamt I was the moon”, from Alice Oswald’s “Full Moon”. I was lucky to be in North Carolina at the beach last week, where the moon was spectacular. 144 words and a few of my photos can’t even begin to capture the magic.
#30 Li Clarity
“Shed your light into the darkness of other lives—with joy accept the connection with all things and be a part of it.”—dreamhawk.com
you must meet, then turn
back. You must
then leave. You must find words that
now drowning, the waves
down dark deep, spiraling wheels
across the cosmos,
multiplying time with fire–
I’ve been meaning to redo this Beach I Ching with a new collage ever since I first posted it, a year and a half ago. I thought the original collage I did was too busy. This one better represents the fire over/under fire of the hexagram.
My original Beach I Ching photos were done in 2014, and I have photos from 2016 and 2017 as well. So it’s time I get back to it on a regular basis.
You can see the rest of the series here.
Also linked to dVerse Open Link Night.
“Shine on and on.”—Yo Ching