Veiling the mainland
fog shrouds the distance
rising in mist
off the sun lit sea.
Green moss sparkles
on dew laden ground
while the trees
and steep roofs
slowly drip.
My heart rests
like calm water,
luxuriates like moss
in the morning dew.
I’ve shed my skin
and speak with crows.
Stones talk and I listen.
We’re asked to be as birds
or like the sun,
to release our stories
and rise with the earth
like fog off the water.
Beneath our burdens
there are wings.
photograph by Robert Aughenbaugh
Reading by the author with music by Aaron Copland
Don, good as today’s poem is, isn’t the pairing with the photo jarring? Isn’t that hapless crow in the claws of a raptor? Who knows? Maybe your hard New York City training remains uncured in the Pacific Northwest.
Actually no Tom, it is the crow that was harassing the hawk! They are both in flight however, and the photographer caught a beautiful image.
~ Beautiful Words ~ 💞🙏💞 ~ Beautiful Image ~ Thank You ~
Don: Leave it to Figel to mistake the picture and not understand the poem. As our President would say: SAD !!!
This speaks of resurrection…….
The work of the earth continues and I hear it and love it! Gorgeous, Don!
Thanks Don. I’ve seen many eagles, and never a hapless crow. Both are magnificent to my eye. The air in the pacific northwest – colder now in season with fog rising from waters holding summers warmth – a special curtain raiser for winter wonderland to come.
Very, very beautiful, Don. I love hearing the sound of your voice and Aaron Copland’s music awakens my soul. Thank you.
Beautiful. Thans, as always, Don. I’d like to think the telling of the stories becomes the wings beneath our burdens.
Don, what a beautiful attunement you provide with the rich warmth of your voice, combined with a perfect choice of music and image. May all our burdens be lifted up on the wings of love! Thank you, dear friend.
A visceral painting with words…
I love the way you wrap it up with the title…:)
Very nice verse, Don. Thanks!
You’re at your best when you crawl inside the image and write from the inside out, as you do here. You’re always careful with the word at the end of lines, so that if I read down the poem, end words only, I have a good sense of the overall poem and can also hear/see slant rhymes. That’s a pleasure!
In the middle of the pandemic and toxic politics, it reminds us that we can take refuge in nature, as in Wendell Berry’s “The Peace of Wild Things.” Renewed, we can then, like Sisyphus, push our rocks up the hill with a smile.