Author: site admin
Tree branches, blue sky
reflected in melting ice —
winter hieroglyphics.
Fractal patterns,
webs of connection,
forest’s neurons awake.
Branches stretching out
over cold morning waves
sunlight glints on stones.
Bluebells in spring,
spring into life,
forest wakes in mute beauty.
Reeds stand sentinel,
green and straight against a wavy background —
one moment in a changing world.
Cormorant on a stump,
its shadowy image
echoed in still water —
listening, watching, waiting for a sign.
Wildflowers nestling
by a fallen fence — sweet colour
on this spring morning.
Tilting its delicate head
the morning glory listens
to the world’s song . . . and silence.
Tree-shapes sheltering
this quiet forest clearing —
a splash of sunlight.
Sparkling light in the darkness
shower of stars
fallen
down to earth.
Dewdrops on a leaf,
red, yellow, dark purple
expanded moments, radiant.
Profusion of golden leaves
reflections in the stream —
The world is a narrow bridge
we need to cross.
(Note: italicized words from Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav)
The saint of the lake sits high in a sequoia
that grows from an ait kissed by mild waves.
Alone yet expansive, the art of silence
presses the holy woman’s heart between two ferns,
releasing notes of dried clover, cornflower, and marigold.
Rain begins and the saint stirs, prays and praises
the blessèd cover of a thick branch overhead,
its tough bark more waterproof than a nimbus.
Though distance obscures the hermit’s face,
one brown palm is visible against the green.
Cupping the rainfall has awakened her birthing sense,
and she is listening to the tadpoles’ legs emerging,
the fox lining her den with leaves for the coming kits,
and the egg-teeth of baby finches tapping their shells into openness,
their long embryonic wait almost at an end.
When the creased cup of the saint’s hand overflows,
she empties its reservoir with a dancing turn of the wrist.
Backing closer to the tree’s broad column,
she gathers heels into the thighs’ shelter
and circles warm knees with her arms.
Breathing into the curled nest of a compassionate self,
she sleeps in Love, heartbeats lapping in sync
with the lake’s gentle rhymes deep below.
A Morning Hike in Brookbanks Park
Just behind Cedar Ridge Creative Centre, a steep switchback trail leads me to the west bank of Highland Creek, where tall grasses sway beside a sandy bank with cheerful stones below. As I continue along the narrow path beside the bank, I stop to photograph an elegant monarch butterfly before moving into deeper tree cover beyond.
I soon come to a tributary of the stream that is flowing much more slowly. Thanks to its shallowness, I can cross by hopping on the most stable stones. As I pause on the series of stepping-stones to survey the next viable perch, I experience moments of flowing water, such as a chartreuse leaf bathing in the stillness.
Although sunlight struggles to filter through the thick canopy, the steep bank offers a vision of hopefulness in grasses that are beginning their rooted stance, a scrap of sky above, and more tree leaves arching over the negative space. I have the sense of inhabiting a furrow or deep groove in an earthy canyon, transforming me into a creature with the option of crawling up and out from a den.
And I do just that, scrambling up the bank with the steadying aid of roots and branches for balance. I emerge onto the manicured openness of Scarborough Golf Club, owner of the footbridge I had glimpsed in a clearing on a previous walk. After I observe a few treasures of the golf course, including a short boardwalk in a marshy area, four irises, and an apiary, I return to the creek’s edge and forest path, the afternoon bathing in light.
Thank you, afternoon roses! When I was working in the front garden under gray skies, the roses only looked flat red, but when I took some photos after finishing the task, the sun revealed combinations of red, orange, and yellow.
Living June, Lord Roberts Woods
Dawn Pond and Creek
Gratitude Portraits
Ontario Hawk and Missouri Cat
Two Dawns at Eglinton Ravine
Missouri Visit
Facilitating this art session on the theme of “What is Education?” was a pleasure and a privilege. I loved seeing the resulting collages and hearing the participants’ insightful and inspiring comments about their work.