Snow, snow, go away
Come again on Christmas Day
It looks as though I must delay
My plans to ride my bike today.
Snow, snow, disappear
Come again late in the year
For though I’m trying to persevere
I’ve really had it up to here.
–Photo by me
i drive up to my favorite spot
for some serious stargazing,
and as my eyes adjust to the
inky blackness of the night,
i find myself suddenly on
the edge of a rocky crag,
hanging precariously over
a yawning, endless void–
the abyss of nothingness.
i want to cling to the world
for if i should lose my grip,
i might tumble into it;
in time, i know i will.
–photo by me
i was out chopping wood
‘neath a magical moon
when i came face to face
with a bear,
and i was quite sure
to be disemboweled soon–
but the beast stood in place
and just stared.
the moonbeams on my beard
somehow tranquilized him,
and i found i was no
longer scared,
so we went in for tea,
and he sat on my knee
while i read him the tale
of three bears.
–photo by son aaron
our darker side is
mostly hidden from our view
yet, it can be known–
we need only to observe
the other birds in our flock
–photo by me
The planks and oarsmen groaned as one,
The wind began to blow,
And at the bow, Leif Erikson’s
Unease began to grow.
He’d put his trust in Jesus now,
And sailed to serve The Lord;
Yet Odin’s ravens mocked him
As the longboat left the fjord.
Soon blown off course, old doubts set in
And caused him great distress–
He grabbed a slave and thundered,
“Thrall, bring me the prophetess!”
The witch came forth, her robe bedecked
With skulls and precious stones,
And calling on the Alfather,
She cast her ancient bones.
“What is it?” Leif called out to her,
“What do The Old One’s say?”
“They say a man should trust his god
To guide him on his way.”
And so he climbed the mast to pray,
And high up there he saw
A land ahead that would, someday,
Be named America.
–Photo by me
when i’m writing poetry,
nature’s abstract art
helps me see
the imagery
hidden in my heart
–photo by me
our past is written
and then quickly disappears;
our future, unknown
–photo by me
i saw the deer, the deer saw me
we bonded telepathically
she sent me vibes that she would wait
and then ran out in front of me
so if your psyche seems entwined
with roadside deer, i think you’ll find
that as a human being like me
you cannot know the cervine mind
–photo by me
all of a sudden
i stood face to face
with the enemy;
i could see the fear
in his big brown eyes.
i had a gun; he didn’t.
slowly, i aimed at him–
could i really kill him
right here in cold blood?
they say to never hesitate,
but now, for some reason,
i couldn’t pull the trigger!
he probably had a family
and friends — just like me.
as i stood there watching,
he began to back away;
i just had to let him go–
i’d never tell the others,
but i was secretly glad
when he suddenly bolted
for the safety of the woods–
antlers held high.
It’s so hard for me to get a good photo of a chickadee; they’re tiny and flit around so much that by the time I set up for the shot, they’re gone.
I worked on getting this one quite a while, and in doing so, I pissed off the little guy; he just wanted to have an uninterrupted meal, and there I was with a big lens in his face.
After a while, I was annoyed too, and it drove me to poetry:
I bugged
A black-capped chick-a-dee
For photographs all day
Until he got so sick-a-mee,
He finally flew away.
–Photo by me
michaeljordahl 