in the dark
before the dawn
eos slips
her mantle on
and madmen dance
out on the lawn
spin, scuttle, clop
for in the light
a toothless grin
or sunken eye
or drooling chin
betrays the madness
deep within
spin, scuttle, clop
and as the damning
daylight spreads
they waltz their way
back to their beds
to dance all day
inside their heads
spin, scuttle, clop
–image by ai
there is no
need for traffic cops
on forest
roads like these,
for out here, the traffic stops
are made by the trees
–photo by me
I stand here at the hotel window
And look down on a mostly empty street
All Lit up under a mostly cloudy moon.
I can’t believe how desolate it is now;
A few years ago, this place was booming.
This street would have been one big
Party on a Saturday night back then,
And, regretfully, I would have been one
Of the drunkest of the party-goers.
Now, those days are a blurry memory.
Tomorrow there’ll be plenty of folks
Down there on the street, shopping
And greeting each other seasonally,
But tonight it’s so dead, the only thing
Changing is the one lonely traffic light.
I must admit, it makes me feel a bit
Lonely too, but at least I’m not drunk.
–Photo by me
I love old barns, and this one may be the granddaddy of them all. I found it in the Northwestern corner of Minnesota, just a few miles from the Canadian border.
…and there it was,
this grand ol’ barn,
reminding me
of that ol’ yarn
about ol’ noah
and his ark–
is this the place
he chose to park?
–photo by me
I feel deep gratitude
When a beautiful sunrise
Is the first thing I see in
My oh-so-busy daily life–
I mean, I’ll stop the car
And get out. It’s worth it.
–Photo by me
–photos by me
some of the campfires
we see burning in the sky
must have attendees–
i wonder what great campfire
stories we’re missing out on
–photo by me
‘Twas Christmas Eve, and all
Was decked in seasonal decor–
Except for Santa lying there
Face down upon the floor.
A note upon the table read:
To Santa and the Elves,
We hope you like the cookies
Me and Timmy made ourselves.
–Image by AI
It’s December, and we’re finally having the weather we should’ve had in November–not that I’m complaining. The trees are all frosted, so I’ve decided to take a walk with my camera down to the local mine pit.
I’m nearing the pit now, and the ground falls away beneath my feet. This is the scary part for an old man on foot; one misstep could lead to a floundering in the snow at best, or perhaps a broken hip with a less fortunate landing. I press on.
I’ve made it down to the water level. The wind coming off the open water is especially nasty, and the cold seems to blow right through my clothes.
It’s too cold to hang around long, so I’m snapping a few quickies before I start up the hill again. My fingers are frozen, and it’s hard to handle the camera.
I begin the slippery ascent, but when I take a look back, I see an ice formation in the water that looks to me like an angel. I hope that’s not a sign concerning my walk home.
–Photos by me
winter’s icy breath
upon restless waters makes
for a frosty shore
–photo by me
michaeljordahl 