Sunset variations

Last night’s sunset: 

A continuous display 

Of amazing light formations. 

I felt privileged to watch the incredible show.

Creating space

Like meditation, these quiet restful places 

We build for ourselves 

Can bless a whole community: 

What touches us, or soothes and calms us 

May have the same effect 

On all who happen to pass by; 

May serve as a reminder 

That there are other ways of being in the world; 

That there are those who will make time 

For peace and solitude, knowing the comfort 

And the solace that emerges in that space.

Where the eyes are led

The patterns in the sea and sky: 

A constantly evolving invitation 

To look up, look out, to notice 

Where our eyes are being led; 

To pause the endless round of tasks; 

To look and then to breathe a sigh 

 Of gratitude for all the beauty in this world.

When shadows fall

Evening, and the shadows fall 

Even as the last rays of light 

Ignite the distant treetops. 

Time to head home; to scurry 

Like the rabbit and the fox 

 To our respective burrows 

And say a prayer for all who have 

No homes to return to; 

That they may at least find someplace 

Warm and dry.

Who will win?

We humans:

 So determined to make our mark; 

To leave some trace that proves 

We were present, we existed, 

We brought something to life — or death — 

That might never have changed, 

Had we not actively interfered. 

But nature — moss, or waves, or rain, 

Grass or weeds or simply time — 

Will do its best to cover up our tracks — 

At least, that’s what we used to hope, 

But now, faced with the heat and fires 

We wonder if we haven’t gone too far, 

Damaged too much for nature to recover.

Golden evening

We sit and watch, entranced, 

Watching the mist rise 

As the evening sun bathes the river 

And the surrounding hills with gold. 

Who, upon breathing such pure, exalted air, 

Would not feel blessed to have returned 

To this primordial oneness with the earth?

Still growing

I’m always seeking to reconcile 

The difference between the art I appreciate 

 And the art I create. 

Those paintings I appreciate are simple, bold, 

Like this photograph, 

 With just a few added elements 

 To spice things up a bit. 

But the ones that I create are so much busier, 

As if some part of me cannot allow 

Any part of the canvas to be silent; 

As if that meditative space is not enough 

To engage the watching eye, I.e., mine. 

I suspect the paintings perfectly represent 

 The tension between who I long to be 

And who I am, and I need to be patient with that. 

Who knew that at this age I’d still be growing…