a glimpse of truth,
new knowledge
armoring the possible,
slaying dragons quietly
for the child that lives in me,
the simple telling moment,
small pebble in the pond,
that ripples out
in growing rings
of confidence,
headed for certainty
_________________________________
turning points don’t arrive on schedule, but when they do, no matter the catalyst, change can be profound.
as I begin with gratitude
for another morning,
today my thanks include
the gift from countless
soldiers, first responders,
citizen patriots all
who came when called for service
volunteers or not,
willingly or not,
just cause or not.
they put themselves
between their country
and a bullet
aimed at its heart,
a human shield
to turn back
fire and dread upon itself
lest their wrath
engulf us all.
the possibility of choice,
of disagreement with
the forward march of war,
lives on for us
because of their belief
that stepping forward
was an act of honor.
that they
no longer breathe,
or rejoice in
our country’s rare
unfettered freedoms
while I and
countless others do,
fills me with
abiding gratitude.
at some point in the spring
with final farewells said,
the forest floor,
so visible all winter,
stuck with upright trunks
and fallen wood
against the snow
or rich red-brown,
retreats awhile
to steep its humus brew
and with the first
green carpet runners
stretched out by a path
or rolled along a stream,
the leaves emerge
in verdant tonal steps
from brown to red
to fresh pastel
and map the world beneath
with sun and shade
while at the very top,
among the branching crowns
a child’s delight returns,
remembered shapes or faces
in the trees, glimpsed
from a bedtime pillow,
boon companions
for another summer
_______________________________________
With winter ebbing very slowly this year, the woods floor began to look quite different as the angle of the sun changed. It was marvelous to see it in this new light, and I realized that I’d miss it with the advent of true spring. I’ve always found shapes of animals or objects or more often, faces, in the leaves and branches of summer, yet another reason I love having a window by my bed.
It’s safe to say we all had a crappy, long, drawn out winter, weather-wise. So imagine my surprise that when the new season finally arrived, it wasn’t one of those small and hasty slots wedged in between freezing and roasting.
Up here at the foot of Monadnock there has been a delicate progression, a slow introduction of green at our feet, buds ripening, canada mayflowers carpeting our path through the woods.
Fiddleheads thrusting up and unfurling, daffies and tulips bringing the first color in months.
Daylily leaves are curving gently, rambling roses sending out new shoots, flower beds repopulating. The rhubarb bed is lush. The weeping cherry and plum tree are full of color. I didn’t know before moving here that plum blossoms smell, well, plummy, but they most certainly do.
The apple tree outside our kitchen door is now in flower, and the lilacs have just emerged.
Many years this all happens like a collapsing telescope, but not right now. The temperature has crept slowly, slowly upwards. What a gift.
Added to all this largesse there are the new birds. At least, new to this place since I’ve been here.
Indigo Buntings, Pine Grosbeaks and Baltimore Orioles have joined the line-up this year. Wonderful flashes of color, especially the Indigo Buntings.
We live at the junction of piney woods, the mountain’s lower reach, the Fassett Brook delta, and Perkins Pond, so we see some nice birds year round. Lots of Ravens. Bears too.
The slate colored juncoes and cowbirds have moved north for the summer.
The usual suspects have all turned up to join the winter jays, woodpeckers, mourning doves, titmice and chickadees — American Goldfinches, Purple Finches, Rose Breasted Grosbeaks, 6-plus varieties of sparrows, Catbirds, Ruby Throated Hummingbirds, Bluebirds, Red Wing Blackbirds, Tricolor Blackbirds and Evening Grosbeaks. Grackles too.
Great blue herons cruise by, with their unmistakable wing beat and are all over the wetlands. Thrushes are singing in the woods at twilight.
The butterflies and moths are making their entrance too.
So I’m feeling pretty flush right now. Livened and renewed by MN’s wonderful Spring, after the fight this winter proved to be, and grateful, definitely.
there is wind this morning,
backed by clear bright light,
just enough to move
the clouds I see
along the mountain arm.
they are solid burghers,
nothing flimsy, without
wings or tails in flight
yet they are bordered brilliantly,
as though the light is urging them
to weightlessness and speed,
to dance across the day
and play there with the sun
gentle loving soul
possessed of many talents
a warrior’s heart
___________________________________
in memory of Diane Smythe. I was not going to write for the last day of NaPoWriMo 2014, but felt compelled to do so for someone who had great personal courage and such a beautiful way of looking at her world.
small mouths being fed
fuel of the day for us all
loving kitchen sounds
___________________________________
for day 29 of NaPoWriMo 2014
I sit in sun below a trellis
hung with jasmine
growing from a thick gray
twist of trunk
upper tendrils branch
green and lush budded
some just opened
their aroma floating out
on soft island drafts
trailers of delight
to lull us later
into perfumed sleep
_________________________________________
for day 28 of NaPoWriMo 2014
there are
bright flowers here,
blooms that seek the sun
not with the urgency I feel
after an eastern winter,
but with an easy thrust
and surfer’s nonchalance
_________________________________________
note: the profusion of blooming things & colors on Alameda is almost overwhelming. for Day 27 of NaPoWriMo 2014.
poem & photo copyright © 2014 KH Rantilla.
bright spirit long gone
to the hills and the mountains
memory always
__________________
for day 25 of NaPoWriMo 2014
a lightning blaze of white
bisects his loving gaze
certain that the work he craves
lies with his people,
center of a now-rich world
in which he rests but lightly,
keeps watch often,
accepts kisses freely given
knows he has a place
forever.
______________________
my son’s dog, Helo, is a smart, loving border collie pit mix. for day 26 of NaPoWriMo 2014.
at three miles up
ahead of our approach
clouds lie below
in lakes and ponds,
captive in still water
then morph to rippled
mercury from overhead
at four miles up
there is a gathering
of shapes and streaks
that overlay
emerging spring
and new sown crops
in game board green
and brown
at five miles up
the cotton candy skeins
and contrails loop
their downy shards,
above a layer
of pillowed white
at six miles up
we climb to leave
some windy bumps
from storms well masked
by gray, swept into
comb tracked dips
at seven miles up
there is a view of
earth again, at dusk,
our flight path is a
well lit layer.
we chase the sun
and distant clouds
between the deep blue
dome of space above
and purpling land below
_________________________
I wondered if a poem would come on this flight. it did. For day 24 of NaPoWrimo 2014
Life With Horace 