David, your spacious narration was all the preparation I needed to take these words in. They will be with me all day, I can already tell. Thank you for this auditory and visual gift.
You weaver of magic, threads knitted together to make the finest garment, fine enough for a dragon to desire. Wonderful, beautiful words sewn by a master wordsmith.
Though an invitation came in the mail that day she felt an intruder, a journey too intimate, too personal .She decided to follow from a respectful distance, hiding under cover of every shade of green and brown. He was searching , ever searching, but she did not know for what. Finally he stilled in the clearing,
“…kneeling and bent low, so as not to alarm, he witnessed something magnificent, a minor miracle; a poem, recited by a dragon …within a storm”. With a soft incredulous expression, he began whispering to bright red wings. She decided to make her presence known, and did the only thing she could in that precious moment. She bent next to him, wrapped both arms around the poem hunter, grateful to have witnessed .
I love, love, love this! Every word, every sentence, every paragraph. I cried at the end of your poem. What a beautiful thing to wake up to my first day on the west coast. Visiting my sister and I will read this to her later. I know she will be moved by this as much as I am. Thank you David. ❤️
This was a very calming poem to read. I love the way you write that so describes even without pictures you can see things so clearly. The pictures are an added bonus as they are so clear and beautiful. Thank you for expressing what many of us as we age experience. The part about getting down but the getting up is no longer easy.
I'm so pleased, Teri. Thank you for making time to offer such encouragement and camaraderie. Yes, that 'getting back up' thing is real, isn't it. I talk to myself quite a bit while I'm out there, no one but the critters watching, trying not to play the fool. My kid self teases my creaky self about being surprised at how much more difficult some things have become over time, then call in memories of Dad, and picture him chuckling as I now begin to understand what these transitions were like for him... We get to choose to be patient and kind, even with ourselves.
If we can’t be patient with ourselves we can’t be patient with others. My life has had ups and downs but I keep going as I want to keep learning and seeing the good in things after close to 74 yrs. I just realized the other day I am 3 months from 74. It kind of gives one a jolt. But I am still active and ride my bike 10-20 miles 3-5 x’s a week and take care of the 4 dogs. My other half has had multiple health issues which has reduced my prior riding of the bike on our trail(used to be train tracks)of 25-30miles in the early morning watching the sun rise . I do miss it but I plan to continue my rides even though not as lengthy. Keep posting your beautiful pics.
A poem sought and found, letters gossamer threaded beauty, to snag our souls and wrap us in softest spider silk… and yet the lowly prose too, are transcending, luring us in with poignant, joyful sorrow. Teaching us things about our inner selves. Still, after all these years, there is much to learn.
Word witchery David, again. Always. Thank you most humbly for bringing these lowly prose and transcendent poetry to my heart in its hour of need xx
Ahhh, Emily, that mysterious term, once again. Word witchery. A badge of honor to be included within its embrace. Sending affection and respect, and my very kindest wishes for some unexpected moment of magic as you work this passage, this heartfelt hour of need.
You are this pocket of calm David. Even while the storm of recent losses and “shapeshifting fears” thrashes around you, I experience your stillness. No doubt nurtured, cultivated, through your ever-bowing entanglement with the wild.
Poem hunting is sometimes arduous work. Then again, sometimes a poem wakes you from deep sleep, saying: “WRITE THIS DOWN!” Thank you for this beautiful piece, my friend. 💕🌈
Poem hunting is sometimes arduous, but it usually feels more like play than work. I’ve had a few, but only a few of those ‘wake you from a deep 😴 sleep’ poetic encounters. Love your note, my poetess, shaman friend.
I don't know why these 5 simple words seemed to rise up so intensely as I listened... all through and through, I loved how you spoke of you... all those ways you found to journey toward something you longed for: a poem... and then your finding of her, the vermillion dragon in the storm...
Dear Dave, this is what I love best about how you tell story: that combination of seeking, of intimate immersion, of crawling through outer places toward mystery, all infused with emotion of your inner world. It's so beautiful and wild and awakening, the way you invite us in.
And I loved being left in the quiet fade of your voice with these images, and the little push toward them:
You leave the best notes, Toni! So generous and such deep water. I feel seen. Heard. And I learn about you, the deliberacy of your artist’s soul, how carefully you consider the things before you, find the threads and weave meanings. How wonderful!
David, your spacious narration was all the preparation I needed to take these words in. They will be with me all day, I can already tell. Thank you for this auditory and visual gift.
"There is always a sheltered lee.
There are always pockets of calm…
Find them."
I am so pleased, my friend. Thank you for such a kind note.
I have enjoyed listening to this as much as I would have if Sir David Attenborough himself had read it. Blissful. Thank you, dear friend.
Thank you my friend…
You weaver of magic, threads knitted together to make the finest garment, fine enough for a dragon to desire. Wonderful, beautiful words sewn by a master wordsmith.
You humble me with you poetic kindness, Sarah. Thank you.
Though an invitation came in the mail that day she felt an intruder, a journey too intimate, too personal .She decided to follow from a respectful distance, hiding under cover of every shade of green and brown. He was searching , ever searching, but she did not know for what. Finally he stilled in the clearing,
“…kneeling and bent low, so as not to alarm, he witnessed something magnificent, a minor miracle; a poem, recited by a dragon …within a storm”. With a soft incredulous expression, he began whispering to bright red wings. She decided to make her presence known, and did the only thing she could in that precious moment. She bent next to him, wrapped both arms around the poem hunter, grateful to have witnessed .
I am ever so fortunate to have a friend like you, dear Lor. This is a gift.
I love, love, love this! Every word, every sentence, every paragraph. I cried at the end of your poem. What a beautiful thing to wake up to my first day on the west coast. Visiting my sister and I will read this to her later. I know she will be moved by this as much as I am. Thank you David. ❤️
To all the strands of spider silk becoming, one day, poem. How fortunate they are to be sought by you.
Grateful for your calm and for your hunting skill.
And for this reading - wonderful!
This is such a lovely note, Holly. I'm smiling and grateful. Thank you for making time.
This was a very calming poem to read. I love the way you write that so describes even without pictures you can see things so clearly. The pictures are an added bonus as they are so clear and beautiful. Thank you for expressing what many of us as we age experience. The part about getting down but the getting up is no longer easy.
I'm so pleased, Teri. Thank you for making time to offer such encouragement and camaraderie. Yes, that 'getting back up' thing is real, isn't it. I talk to myself quite a bit while I'm out there, no one but the critters watching, trying not to play the fool. My kid self teases my creaky self about being surprised at how much more difficult some things have become over time, then call in memories of Dad, and picture him chuckling as I now begin to understand what these transitions were like for him... We get to choose to be patient and kind, even with ourselves.
If we can’t be patient with ourselves we can’t be patient with others. My life has had ups and downs but I keep going as I want to keep learning and seeing the good in things after close to 74 yrs. I just realized the other day I am 3 months from 74. It kind of gives one a jolt. But I am still active and ride my bike 10-20 miles 3-5 x’s a week and take care of the 4 dogs. My other half has had multiple health issues which has reduced my prior riding of the bike on our trail(used to be train tracks)of 25-30miles in the early morning watching the sun rise . I do miss it but I plan to continue my rides even though not as lengthy. Keep posting your beautiful pics.
A poem sought and found, letters gossamer threaded beauty, to snag our souls and wrap us in softest spider silk… and yet the lowly prose too, are transcending, luring us in with poignant, joyful sorrow. Teaching us things about our inner selves. Still, after all these years, there is much to learn.
Word witchery David, again. Always. Thank you most humbly for bringing these lowly prose and transcendent poetry to my heart in its hour of need xx
Ahhh, Emily, that mysterious term, once again. Word witchery. A badge of honor to be included within its embrace. Sending affection and respect, and my very kindest wishes for some unexpected moment of magic as you work this passage, this heartfelt hour of need.
Namasté
You are this pocket of calm David. Even while the storm of recent losses and “shapeshifting fears” thrashes around you, I experience your stillness. No doubt nurtured, cultivated, through your ever-bowing entanglement with the wild.
Poem hunter, you will never go hungry.
Agree
What a note, Kimberly! I’ll sit with this one for a while.
Big hug of gratitude.🙏
This is a peaceful read. Even if I didn't see the photos I would be able to envision the bog and desert just from your descriptions and word choices.
Music, Patricia, music to this storyteller’s ears. Your note is a balm. Thank you.🙏
I'm glad to be a balm for someone, especially another writer-artist.
Thanks for sharing your soulful prose and poems and photos…they all enrich our world…much needed now❤️
You are most welcome, Nancy. Thank you for such a kind note.
Poem hunting is sometimes arduous work. Then again, sometimes a poem wakes you from deep sleep, saying: “WRITE THIS DOWN!” Thank you for this beautiful piece, my friend. 💕🌈
Poem hunting is sometimes arduous, but it usually feels more like play than work. I’ve had a few, but only a few of those ‘wake you from a deep 😴 sleep’ poetic encounters. Love your note, my poetess, shaman friend.
A fine response Toni. 👌
"It is a hard land."
I don't know why these 5 simple words seemed to rise up so intensely as I listened... all through and through, I loved how you spoke of you... all those ways you found to journey toward something you longed for: a poem... and then your finding of her, the vermillion dragon in the storm...
Dear Dave, this is what I love best about how you tell story: that combination of seeking, of intimate immersion, of crawling through outer places toward mystery, all infused with emotion of your inner world. It's so beautiful and wild and awakening, the way you invite us in.
And I loved being left in the quiet fade of your voice with these images, and the little push toward them:
"There is always a sheltered lee.
There are always pockets of calm...
Find them."
You leave the best notes, Toni! So generous and such deep water. I feel seen. Heard. And I learn about you, the deliberacy of your artist’s soul, how carefully you consider the things before you, find the threads and weave meanings. How wonderful!