Amy’s prompt rock the object, and roll the music 🎶 reminded me of this beautiful song which is not rock but music on a Rocky beach.
Entraide
Entraide is a French word
It is a symbol of hope, humanity
Interconnectedness and solidarity
It means to help each other in mutual aid
But it is much more than that
Entraide is a selfless act
A mutual act when all parties find
care and support
in assisting each other
in a profound way
In a way that often change one’s life
In a way that changes the course of human
Understanding
It can be in small gestures
repeated over time or not
It is an act full of unconditional dignity
It is the foundation of our humanity
and the link that ties us all together
gently bringing us peace
Entraide is what makes our souls sing
in harmony
and like
A cup of tea for the one dying of thirst
Entraide is a core principle
A kindness
Unabashed love for each other
It is, pure joy
Tuesday was Tina’s day
She arrived for lunch
Mother usually roasted
a whole chicken for her
Tina brought dessert
Often the most incredible
Cream puffs
She told stories of her youth
Working laundry at the hospital
Caring for our father and his siblings
Along side my grandmother
Who had met her somehow
After the migrations of the
Second World War
Tina hailed from Italy
and never married but read
literally trash bags full of
harlequin romance novels
Including the famous red collection.
She subscribed to them all
and we in turn
adored her
❤️
as I lay here pondering
the muddy muddy, muddy!
morning commute.
I pull my covers
a little snugger
as tonight’s full moon
finds cover.
The ruts will eat my car!
Rain clouds roll over
… in laughter…
It’s a thing I tell you!
Mud season is no trifle!
Unmoved the cloud cover
builds, and half way
around the world
just shy of a war zone
my florist is occupied at creating
small miracles.
SHAMROCK
Sleepless night
Hear my plea
As I remember thee
Magically
Revive
Oh Lord
Comfort, joy and glee
Keep
Spirit alive in
Heavenly gardens, for
A ground soon we will be, but until then
May Peace
Return
Oh Lord, and
Could you continue to
Keep love, luck, and hope alive for me
🙏
Way beyond Manhattan
Blizzard conditions sweep the northeast.
As temperatures drop, a cold wind
Emerges from the west.
Nestled under a beautiful blanket
Winter has returned
Yet under all that bravado roads remains soft. Right below the surface it is mud season.
And I am grateful
the buoyancy of Spring is on hold
For my mood has remained in tune
with the stark desolation
the end of winter
sometimes brings
And in the sharpening winds
I hear
Cohen, Vaughan and Warnes alike
sing of you … my dear
Steam lifted off their spoons
In unison they gently blew the hot liquid
into submission
A sweat and savory aroma drifted
through the room
Safe memories of times long ago
flloated in the air and then
the slurping began,
and hilarity ensued
And then…
They truly found themselves in the soup
Long before
Wool Sweaters
We could be seen
Grazing
And before that yet?
Our mystery stretched
From Greece to the Black Sea
Glistening in the Sun
Hero’s might have
come upon us
as kings were made
But in truth
the most humble of us
to this day continue
to provide warmth
in the biting hours
before Spring
gifting body and soul
powerful protection
against the blues.
Warmer breezes sweep over
Patches of ice and snow
Turning them back into water
In the safe heaven of a garden
Pussy Willows bud out
Reminding us of flowers to come
In a tall vase in the foyer
Elegant branches greet
First light
The shrub shimmers
And Hope?
It floats thru the kitchen window
Past steam and tea
Landing in the heart
In the spirit of joy
High fashion bows down
to the Bohemian spirt
that infused the polka dot
From Venezuela to Japan
Herrera and Kusama’s
polka dots twirl in tempo
joined by the unmistakable leader:
the Jersey of the Tour de France
Mountain Stages.
As the Polka wildly plays on
the Czech accordion lifts feet
right up off the ground
And polka dots dresses
mesmerize even
the starchiest of souls.
May togetherness be once again
fostered world wide
around dots and dances alike
as soldiers might revive
the Beer Barrel Polka
The first flame of fall,
I eagerly wait for that night:
wood-stove’s first light.
It’s soul lifting, much like
a summer camp fire
lighting up a Maine lake and rocky shore
The first flames of a Vermont fall
usher in winter just late enough
past frosts are almost forgotten
It is a joyous event
like Raclette
fireside in a Swiss Alp
after a solid day of spring skiing
It is the antithesis to war
Elegant dance
Twinkling lights
Glorious waters
Rivers the world over
Enchant
Bridging places wild and free
Sinuous curves seduce
Musicians and poets a like
Gifting us with far away places
sacred stories
waltz and myth:
the Blue Danube
the River Styx
the Rhône
the Dnipro
the Amu Darya
the Nile
the Delaware
the Amazon
Rivers
One of a kind
Kin
Their waters
powerful, peaceful, and lethal
as thee
March marathon’s very last
Day and Word arrived
I feel profoundly
honored and grateful to have
been a part of this
Event, which concludes
with a well deserved round of
Applause for each one
Bravo team! May we
meet again next year, and all
join forces once more.
💕
Breeze, under the big maple
A vibrant color
Hammock swings on the
Branch. My feet dangle in sun.
I dream of water
Soon branches will fill
with delicate green buds and
small leaves will open
Seasons are shifting
Today my very first bulb,
yellow crocus bloomed.
is a florist I love whose
name translates loosely
“Au Panier Fleuri”
~At the flowering basket~
I love to call for
the most delightful
arrangements. Delivery
to my dear Mother;
who then will take for
me, most exquisite pictures,
of the flower’s lives.
She picks up the page
A thick piece of the white print
making paper, so
Loved. She creases it
like an origami crane,
each fold opened closed,
until the whole page
lays flat covered in raised lines.
Delicately she
paints a mosaic
of bright color pools between
those raised lines, until
the whole page reads like
a gorgeous stained glass pane
full of light, and joy.
💕
This image was created in 2011, of all the folded paper drawings I’ve made it remains my favorite, and is the best example of the process to date.
Tears don’t alway manifest
Yet sorrow remains
Poignant at odd times
Days of a year have rolled by
as water over rocks
in an Alpine torrent
Not salty or turquoise
as the Mediterranean Sea
but glacial and green
akin to a Vermont snow melt
in a warm breeze.
It’s the missing of his laughter,
the warmth of his smile,
and the tenderness of his heart
that hold me today a year later
And the words of a poem
that gently rock my heart.
wildly graceful, not slight this
bobcat advances.
I can see it thru
the dark pine grove, reminding
me forest is still
ferocious. No sound
across wet leaves this feline
is not passing thru,
It hunts here. Squirrels
took cover. Incredibly
smooth it travels, and
I am simply awed
I caught this slightest motion
in the mossy woods.
First green shoots herald
the new season - daffodils
announce themselves now.
In full chirp and cheer
Robins have definitely
arrived. With glee they
bounce across the grass
still filled with foamy snow melt.
Matted fields welcome
them. Twigs, sticks and all
manner of debris litter
the freshly revealed
landscape. In a month
nature will finally weave, all her fun
party clothes together.
Spring
It’s 6:42 in the evening
sun is still filling the deck.
Rays are slow to set
behind the maples
whose sap has risen at last!
A vibrancy fills
every breath of air.
Spring fever surrounds
us all.
Without a care she
gazes at the mossy spot
beneath the first snow melt,
and sighs a sigh of
relief, for winter still here,
has finally left.
Today I heard them
loud and clear across melting
Snow. Their echo long
In the distance calls:
We are back, we are back, spring
Is around the bend.
Their flight spans miles in
orderly formation they
travel, reminding
us of strength in team
work, and safety in numbers,
defiant and free
they find familiar
nesting ponds; hope carried on
fiercely open wings.
Chickadees announced winter
Barred Owl calls in March
Goshawks soon arrive
Nuthatches are here to stay
Juncos come and go
To each a season
To each a time and greeting
A familiar chirp
A lively bunch, crows
and ravens too, surrounding
world of you and me
Little boundaries
loose or free, time eternal
flows in handwriting.
Still, I hand write my
friends, especially Barry,
long hand letters, yet
lately I stencil,
words of hope on tiny squares,
neat alphabet curls,
inspiring much joy;
clearer than my handwriting,
scribbled in sharpie,
remains organized
yet playfully energized,
stencil holding me.
She often said I
was made of stars. Star dust she
would whisper softly
She joined him on a
wave off the Oregon coast
From here I can see
them together now
as they dance on windy tops
sparkling in moonlight.
On the other hand
my father’s turn came last March
deep in the Swiss Alps
Where are we from, we
would ask him as children? A
twinkle in Dad’s eye.
Forever now he
remains the twinkle in my
crisp clear baby blues.
(Forever now he
remains the twinkle in the
near by Milky Way)
At the first ring I
Answered the old fashion phone
Now each night I sit
at this place between
yesterday and today, in
hand modern device
refreshing the page
at the crossroads of many
Imagination
Feverishly type
at the first sign of the prompt
tomorrow’s missives
It’s with sheer delight
this crossing comes to be my
most energized act
Heart strings, drums and saxophones
Bring on the old blues
Watery eyes in
a palette of indigo
Turn whiskey sour blues
Cerulean skies
Now far up from the bayous
Mountain side all blues
A Universal
Tune sung in deep grieving cords
Shades in today’s blues
At Infinite depths
Cobalt and crimsons ring in
this fair night time blues
Finally the blues!
Stars arrive in waves sail to
Freedom on the blues
Elegance and grace
abundance overflowing
Swiss pewter Pitcher.
Imagine magic
Fields, one hand filled with peonies
Vineyards and dry sun
And yes, from Vermeer
to Rembrandt water flows. In
clay Cezanne’s wine
is kept. I grasp at
last the openings I have
been missing. It is
interconnected
we strive together to reach
creativity.
the selection is ruthless
I kept the Jade plant
Braided money tree
made the cut, geraniums
not so lucky joined
the compost bin I
tend with devotion into
Spring. Aloe Vera,
Avocado tree,
Both froze after many a
Ice Season. Soon time
for Greenhouse visits.
Return to Dandelion
Acres start fresh.
Soon! This Houseplant
Will join deck pots, gleefully
Bask in fresh sunlight.
pearls. Quietly as conch shells
spiral, madness grows.
Night sinks soul. At dawn
the Apex out of control.
Giant waves over
each grain roll, as brain
on overdrive struggles to
center, see, and be.
In comes Poetry
as Remedy. Precision
tool counts. Calming Sea.
lean stretching their green steams, to
the dark midnight sun.
Dazzling
In the spot light she
pirouettes to dazzling heights
while we sit zazen
Still Lives so brilliant
In silence gently quiver
Piero by their side.
Sheathed her knives do cut
Right to the core revealing
Nature’s mysteries.
Doorway
Light shines through the glass
Curtain sways to summer breeze
Flowers grace her deck
If one had to guess
who will come through next, to sit,
for tea, for neighbors
near and far have not
crossed paths, pandemic you see
closed garden gateways.
I’d say it would be
thee, crossing the stone arc at
the edge of my woods,
Rising to see from
hammock chair I would, whole heart,
Delighted, greet thee.
Branches crack, nests hang balanced
I can hear the moon
Darkness has a loud
Voice. The plough person we love
Prepared us, for worse.
With gale force strength, ice
Whips into boiler plate, no
room, errors fatal
Winds excite this night
interminable the wait
Yet Spring will come, in
Time. Winter rises
Sugar’s sweetest gift: Maple
Snow, and Vermont’s hearts.
An ocean of moon light
Fills her silver hair
Wind picks up
Colorful prayer flags
A candle flickers
In her night
Pine branches sway
Fragrant and free
A mid a sea of winter green
A bell tolls in the distance
Her heart set
On healing she looks up
At all the stars of midnight
Golden sands travelled
Yesterday
Rose in the winds
They blew two
Thousand miles
Three
Thousand kilometers
From the Sahara desert to Switzerland
Floating so many on the wind
They turned the skies
Gold
A shade of yellow
Like a summer storm
Before the lightening
Rose
Saved in a little jar
Reminiscing, love
Of a trip
A token returned
Still here
Forty years
Her teenage years
When the snow turned gold
Yesterday
You can donate to support "March Arts Marathon is a fundraiser for Asylum Seekers Assistance Network (ASAN), a project of CVRAN"
at this link
https://cvran.org/hope-rose/
Heartfelt thank you for sharing this journey <3