Autumn’s Tug

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An almost perceivable shift of focus,
gentle push from a cool breeze, a Lake Superior blue sky,
a slowing quiet saying it’s time

To turn south.

The memory of autumn hues,
scent and sound of earth moving towards hibernation
etched upon my mind urging me to stay

One more day.

 

Jamie Dedes posted her Wednesday Writing Prompt with the poem “autumn promises.” In Michigan July is summer, and it has been delightful with not too hot temperatures, low humidity and cool nights. My flower garden is at peek blooming. I usually don’t long for autumn rituals this early in the summer. It isn’t until August that the dog-days of summer heat set in and I hear the call of autumn’s promises. But I have been feeling that gentle nudge for about a week to start thinking about going south. As I move into October, however, I know I will once again feel the conflict of wanting to experience just one more day of autumn before we migrate south.

 

A Transient Thought on Transient

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Summer Solstice

don’t think about transient

when days are long and warm

don’t think about transient

as gardens teem with anticipation

don’t think about transient

when today is rich for life

breath deep with joy

because tomorrow we move on

 

Photograph (and words) are in response to this week’s Daily Post photo challenge of transient. I am working hard at living in this day because thinking about the transitions to come increase my stress and result in another day missed because I was living somewhere else.

Simple Joy – Complex Beauty

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The simple joy of

camera in hand

focused on a simple bud waiting

within a simple environs

to unfold its complex beauty.

In response to the prompt Simple, from The Daily Post at WordPress.

This Aging Body

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A scary place, this aging body

on a beach of shifting sands

passing youth jogging memories

of moving – mindless, confident, fluid

towards mundane tasks and lofty goals.

A scary place, this aging body

unsure of its place in space

Not responsive to primitive memories

of ways to navigate the bumpy plains and

slopping stairs to life’s rewards.

A scary place, this aging mind

Attentive of impending declines

that inflate the memories of agility

Leaving this aging body vulnerable

as we hold hands and totter forth.

I enjoy reading the poetry of Jamie Dedes, but today she pulled me in with her prompt. She invites us to:

Write a poem that juxtaposes a fond youthful memory with your current place in life.  See if you can do it in brief. Brevity often lends itself well to clarity and deeper emotion. (J. Dedes, The Poet by Day: For Mrs. Whitman – A Poem, 11/16/16)

I couldn’t resist her invitation. I won’t link to her blog, however, because I don’t consider myself a poet and know nothing about writing poetry. But I have the photo from my time on the beach this morning, like brevity, and know how to make it look like poetry. Anyone out there who would like to hold hands while we go for a walk in the unknown future?

My Dot on the Map: A Perfect Morning

Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry
Come buy, come buy
Apples and quinces
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-head mulberries
Wild free born cranberries,
Crab-apples, blackberries,
Pine-apples, dewberries,
Apricots, strawberries –
All ripe together
In summer weather, –
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly
Come buy, come buy.


Christina Rossetti

Friend Julie picked me up at 6:00 this morning for our weekly photography drive-about. After shooting a balloon launch and a carnival, but before eating breakfast at the Busy Bee and stopping at a cemetery for a few photographs,  we went to the farmer’s market.

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This evening we had the perfect summer meal – evident by the many oooh’s and yummm’s that were proclaimed by the two of us. We had sweet, melt-in-your-mouth-tender corn on the cob, snappy-steamed green and waxed beans, and a charcoal-grilled ground beef patty with our daughter’s canned salsa. For desert I had a dish of blueberries that were large, plump, and bursting with flavor. Pure joy!