Tag: Poetry
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High on Nectar
I recently learned that autumn isn’t the best of times for drone honeybees, but there’s still time for the rest of us to get high on nectar. And since the humble haiku is nearly nectar in the poppy fields of poetry, I’ll defer today to an industrious honeybee high on nectar of a windblown poppy…
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Autumn Twangs
September Twangs Haiku Early morning lightin mid-late, late Septembertwangs like a banjo. Three years and two days ago, September 23, 2019, autumn light leapt the visual audio barrier shortly after sunrise. The moment, really a medley of moments, still resonates today. Cooling hues and crisper textures tickle nostalgia for fall foliage past, the sentimental tug…
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September Poems
Boathouse Bonfire, September 27, 2014 (Source: Geo Davis) If September poems sound overly sentimental to you or if you’re inclined to a grittier observance of the almost-upon-us Autumn Equinox, I’ve got you covered. Soon. Stay tuned. But if you’re comfortable lingering briefly — and these poems are, if nothing else, brief — in the seasonality…
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Icehouse Door
I’d like to shift your focus for a moment to the almost-ready-for-groundbreaking rehabilitation of Rosslyn’s historic icehouse situated just north of the carriage barn. Has your focus shifted? Good. Now let’s zoom in a little tighter to the icehouse door. Perhaps imagine yourself walking south on the sidewalk in front of Rosslyn, looking across the…
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Converging Vignettes
I occasionally question my choice of Redacting Rosslyn as the catchall category for the nearly decade-and-a-half process of documenting Rosslyn’s rehab ad infinitum or — more precisely — of telling the story (distilling the spirit from the collage of details, filtering out acerbic and delicate dregs, blending the best into a balanced and cohesive whole.)…
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A Lake Is Born
No night, I’m thinking(willing, really), lastsforever, endless.But my confidenceflutters then falters.What if I’m wrong? Just then, before dawn,day breaks early andundreams the darkness,banishes black thatripens to eggplant,fades to indigo. A solitarysunbeam’s hatchet honedcleaves wide somber dome,spills veins of amber,honey smeared scarletover-ripened, bursts. A vast aquarelleunleveed shimmers,a lake is born andmountain range cutouts,mirrored but mottledon breeze…
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Hammock Huddle Haiku
Hankering for a hammock huddle this morning, so I’ll I revisit the photograph I shared on June 6 depicting a herd of hammocks near the orchard. Yes, the color is a little over juiced. And the shadows are dark almost to the point of feeling ominous. Or cozy? But this moment beckons this morning given…
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Orchard Harvests
Recent nights are feeling more September than August, and even some of the days. Dry heat (trending cooler) during the daytime, and crisp-to-chilly at night. This bodes well for apples, pears, grapes,… And so my mind is in the orchard. Holistic orcharding has forged a gradual, intimate familiarity with my trees and with their habits.…
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Peaches This Year
Glorious indeed it is to report that our peaches this year are the tastiest I’ve ever grown. Also the biggest, juiciest, sweetest, and IMHO the prettiest. O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! — Lewis Carroll I’m chortling in my joy. Imagine, if you dare, the decadence of lifting a sun warmed peach, freshly plucked from the branch,…
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Daybreak
Daybreak: Lake Champlain sunrise through “wavy glass” in late August, summertime slipping through the hourglass. (Source: Geo Davis) Since my earliest Rosslyn intrigue, wondering if the house and property might one day become a home for us, daybreak was my fixation. Perhaps it was just my lifelong affinity for the early hours. As a “morning lark”…
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Horse Stall Haiku
Horse Stall Haiku Carriage house stall door,pockmarked, patinated, but hale,relates tenants past. — Geo Davis Wabi-sabi Horse Stall Patina. Rust. Wear-and-tear. The horse stall door in the photograph above abounds in visible reminders of imperfection and impermanence. And yet beauty brims. The image, indeed the horse stall and the horse stall door themselves, exude warmth and…
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Daydream Retrieving
Sleeping Dog Haiku Lie, sleeping dog, lie,postprandial, snooze-barking,daydream retrieving. — Geo Davis When the hurly-burly and the kaleidoscopic cascade of commitments collapse into one another (and seeing through the turmoil requires a periscope) life hands us little reminders to catch our…