nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

Archive for the ‘a moment of beautiful’ Category

spirit guide

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As a biologist, I believe that human beings are fundamentally connected to the natural world.  We are part of that world. To live, we need to eat and drink and breathe. We respond to the cycles of climate and weather.

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I believe, to be whole, we need to experience nature on a daily basis.  In winter it is so easy to hide within our warm houses and pretend we are immune. But when I have hibernated for a few days, I start to long for a snowflake on my tongue, the glimpse of a bird, the sound of ice cracking on the lake. I need fresh air, a moment spent counting the sides on a flake of snow, the dripping of maple sap into a metal pail, the chortle of a black crow, flying overhead.

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Call me crazy, but sometimes I am certain our connection with nature is one of communication. I am stopped by the knowing look of my cat staring at me as if she cannot understand my lack of understanding. I ask for a prayer to be answered and hear the low tremolo of a loon from the lake. I am startled by the constant return of a yellow bird to the window in the months after my mother dies. I watch my hand painting detail in a landscape and am amazed at how a white line can capture the essence of a leaf.

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I also feel kinship with a particular animal. Some days it seems to express my disgruntlement with life. Other days, my joy. When I think of sound, the first sound I remember is the beat of wings on overhead air.

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spirit guide

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after the proper length of fast

after the proper exposure to fire

I open my eyes

but I see no animal spirit

only black

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I listen

silence

unless you count the compression

of a single beat of wing

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I stretch and feel the atmosphere

detached

partitioned by sharpened feather fingers

and the zigzag trail

of some multi-legged crawler

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my mouth is filled

with the down

of fallen angels

(also feathered black)

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the stink of burning quills

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where is a crow

when you need to experience

more than the characteristics of crow?

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Copyright Jane Tims 2018

 

Written by jane tims

January 22, 2018 at 7:22 am

renewal

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Here we are in chill January. Days of snow and freezing rain, bitter cold and flooding and loss. Days when we don’t get enough sun to fill our requirement for Vitamin D.  Days when summer seems so far away.

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As a retired person, my days are neither hectic nor sorrowful. My hours are filled with writing, painting, drawing, time on social media and an occasional meeting. I can go outside any time I want to get my dose of sunshine (if available). My stresses are few.

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Once life was not so easy.  I worked long days and often came home tired and in a bad mood. But my husband and son made my days wonderful. I found this poem in my files, a testament to the way our families can inject hope into a slogging day! I wrote the poem in 2010, a couple of years before I retired.

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Renewal is possible

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I am entirely new today

some aspect of morning

has cast just-born skin

on me

the song sung by the kettle

the taste of the tea

the forecast of snow

the way you said goodbye

more like the promise of hello

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most days lately

have tears at all the edges

too much to do

too little time

late nights

mugs of coffee, half-gulped

clocks and messages despised

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through the day

I have waited for

old disappointments

to discover my face

but my noon coffee

has a hint of chocolate

and all my emails

are smile-embedded

and one of them from you

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my husband getting pussy willows for me …

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Copyright Jane Tims 2018

Written by jane tims

January 20, 2018 at 7:00 am

Tendrils

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My cucumber vines are still thriving …


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And the tendrils are still so charming!


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This one wants to pull up a chair!


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On Friday, I had my first cucumber salad from my vines!

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Copyright 2017 Jane Tims

Written by jane tims

August 7, 2017 at 7:20 am

a moment of beautiful: tendrils

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the place: a planting of cucumber vines on the deck

the beautiful: winding tendrils

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I have a small garden on our deck. This year I tried a new technique; I put a bag of soil on a table, cut a slit in the horizontal part of the bag, punctured the bottom for drainage and planted some cucumbers. Later, when the leaves were established, I ran a couple of lengths of string from the table to a nearby tree.

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Now the tendrils are searching for support. When the cells of the tendril encounter a surface, such as the edge of a string, the cells respond in such a way to twist the tendril. The resulting coils and spirals are so charming!

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a note of music

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Hang on little fellow!

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coils and curls

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Copyright Jane Tims 2017

Written by jane tims

July 21, 2017 at 7:00 am

A moment of beautiful – crocuses in bloom!

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the place: our front lawn by the driveway

the time: April 27, 2017

the beautiful: three plantings of purple crocus

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A couple of days ago, as I left the driveway, I looked back and saw my blooming crocuses … purple and dark-purple-veined … shining in the sun.
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The sight reminds me to always plan for the future. I planted these a few years ago, thinking, one day these will give me and others lots of joy. Today was the pay-out!

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Flight paths

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Bees navigate airways,

scan for nectar, flowers

in April bloom.

Guidance olfactory and sight –

ultraviolet, blue and green –

landing platforms,

runways invisible

(to human eyes)

lead to nectar.

Workers gather

and leave

for the hive

to waggle stories

to their kin.

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Copyright Jane Tims 2017

Written by jane tims

April 29, 2017 at 10:17 am

a moment of beautiful – autumn leaves

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Like stained glass against the sky!

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Copyright Jane Tims 2016

Written by jane tims

October 10, 2016 at 7:50 am

after the ice storm

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Our drive in the crystal world after the ice storm reminded me of a poem I wrote years ago.

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It is a rebellious poem (for me), written when I was entering the workforce and unwilling to be viewed from any traditional point of view. Part of the poem uses the metaphor of ‘breaking the glass ceiling’ (Marilyn Davidson and Cary Cooper. Shattering the Glass Ceiling: The Woman Manager. Paul Chapman, Pub., 1992). The poem is about an experience in 1979 of walking in a forest after an ice storm, on one of my earliest dates with my husband. Apparently I didn’t want him to think of me in any traditional role!

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Breaking the Glass Ceiling

 

we still see birch

bent in the forest

broken yet grown

fifteen years

since the ice storm

years translucent

as the curtain of fir

you held back for me

 

I ran ahead

wanted to walk with you

but hoped you knew

how alone I could be

above me branches

burdened

with ice

 

your hand on my arm

 

go softly ! (you said)

a touch

will shatter

twigs and tree-tops

chiselled from ice

 

breathe

and hear a million cymbals

tied to our wrists with ribbon

 

I wanted to listen with you

but hoped you knew

I would never be

coins in a wishing well

a ballerina bolted to a box of jewels

goblets clinking for a kiss

 

I will not let you

shelter me

 

I know only

shards of glass

from the ceiling

 

(some days I am fragile

only needing warmth

to keep from breaking)

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Copyright 2016 Jane Tims

Written by jane tims

March 31, 2016 at 7:20 am

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