sky

As If

~ shoreacres ~ 40 Comments

 

Only a beige slat of sun
above the horizon, like a shade pulled
not quite down.  Otherwise,
clouds. Sea rippled here and
there. Birds reluctant to fly.
The mind wants a shaft of sun to
stir the grey porridge of clouds,
an osprey to stitch the sea to sky
with its barred wings, some dramatic
music: a symphony, perhaps
a Chinese gong.
But the mind always
wants more than it has —
one more bright day of sun,
one more clear night in bed
with the moon; one more hour
to get the words right; one
more chance for the heart in hiding
to emerge from its thicket
in dried grasses — as if this quiet day
with its tentative light weren’t enough,
as if joy weren’t strewn all around.
                                           “Mind Wanting More” ~ Holly Hughes

 

Comments always are welcome.

 

 

Far From the Madding Crowd

~ shoreacres ~ 57 Comments

 

What may be the most well-known phrase from Thomas Gray’s poem “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” certainly fits this view of a road leading through the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge.

On January 6, the madding crowd was elsewhere, leaving the birds, the alligators, and the occasional nature lover to enjoy one another’s company — and the magnificent sky show — in peace.

 

Comments always are welcome.
For more information on Thomas Gray (1716-1771), visit this Poetry Foundation page.

 

Making Way

~ shoreacres ~ 38 Comments


Wayfarer, the only way
is your footsteps, there is no other.
Wayfarer, there is no way,
you make the way by walking.
As you go, you make the way,
and stopping to look behind
you see the path that your feet
will never travel again.
Wayfarer, there is no way
Only foam trails on the sea.
                                  ~ Proverbios y cantares XXIX ~ Antonio Machado (trans. Alan S. Trueblood)

Comments always are welcome.

 

Beyond The Sky

~ shoreacres ~ 46 Comments

 

Beyond the sky there is another sky
and beyond that sky there is another.
However far you go, there’s only sky.
A cloud in the shape of a boat
is floating in the sky, but
the sky has no harbor where it can anchor.
How far does it travel, I wonder.
On this side of the sky there is another sky,
and on this side of that sky there is another —
it seems to come down to us from time to time.
Sunflowers touch the sky.
Dragonflies touch it, too, with their wings.
I am lying on my back in the field
touching the sky with the tip of my nose.
                                                               Kazue Shinkawa ~ translation by Takako Lento

 

Comments always are welcome. For more on poet Kazue Shinkawa, click here.

 

Taking Wing

~ shoreacres ~ 60 Comments
An ice-haloed cloud at sunset above the coastal plain

 

There’s a book called
A Dictionary of Angels.
No one had opened it in fifty years.
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered
The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.
Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place:
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.
She’s very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.
                              In The Library ~ Charles Simic

 

 

Comments always are welcome.
More information on ice halos and sundogs is available on the Atmospheric Optics site.