Slowly, the massive, battle-scarred buck
Steps out of the woods and into my range.
It’s rutting season now, and his neck is
Grossly swollen with the thick muscles
He’s acquired by rubbing and scraping
His antlers on everything he runs into.
This one is a real scrapper, for sure,
All jacked up on male testosterone
And ready to do battle if necessary.
I line up my sights and take aim.
He hears the click and bounds away,
But it’s already too late–
I got my Shot of the Day.
–Photo by me
rumbling and grumbling,
old iron ore trains
wind through the woods
with their aches and their pains;
huffing and puffing,
they still carry on,
stealing the show–
and then they are gone.
–photo by me
lakeshore in autumn–
a slice of heavenly pie
between lake and sky
–photo by me
–photos by me (except the last one)
in winter,
rocky point provides
a lesson
for us all:
though ice threatens on all sides,
her flag still stands tall
–photo by me
I’ve been seeing a lot of trumpeter swans heading south lately. They fly in the same V formation as geese, but they don’t make that terrible racket that geese are notorious for. They’re more graceful in their flight and more gracious in their departure.
trumpeter swans
take to the sky
i wish them well
as they fly by
and in return
they wave goodbye
–photo by me
I like to keep my posts on the lighter side, but lately the news is a steady diet of death and destruction, and I’m stuffed. Sometimes I envy the birds flying free above it all.
it seems like almost every day,
there’s more bad news that comes our way;
it makes me want to spread my wings
and fly above the fray
–photo by me
a new morning breaks
the clouds are undone
the spirit awakes
our flight has begun
the dark of night ending,
we all are as one–
ascending and blending
into the sun
–photo by me
in confusing times,
our ideals will guide us–
if we just look up
our best landmarks are the ones
reaching toward the heavens
–photo by me
–photos by me
michaeljordahl 