Archive for the ‘eight days’ Category
eight days – brass dragonfly
Our cabin at the lake is situated at the top of a hill where the wind is always blowing. In summer, this wind keeps the black flies and mosquitos at bay. Any remaining flying insects quickly become the prey of our vigorous dragonfly population. Like mythical dragons, they swoop down and, as sunlight reflects from their transparent wings, cast glints of fire on the landscape.
On my recent trip to see family in Ontario, I was reminded of our insect dragons … on the hearth was a small brass dragonfly, contemplating his next fiery foray!
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brass dragon
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burnish absorbs light
conjures spirit metallic
re-invented as transparent
breath as vague as warmth
of dragon wind
lift beneath wings
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© Jane Tims 2012
eight days – antler
During my trip to Ontario, we spent lots of time, on cold days, enjoying the wood stove.
On the hearth was a deer antler, found on a walk in the woods. Usually they are hard to find since the mice chew them to nothing very quickly.
I was drawn to the antler because of its resemblance to a bony hand.
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antler
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ivory hand, posed
for incantation, shadows in unexpected places
relic of a woodland walk, artefact
enchanted, deer rub
cedar bark to summon
mist, acknowledge the passage
of days, manifest between
separation
and the gnawing of mice
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© Jane Tims 2012
eight days – ice storm
During my eight-day stay in Ontario, the highlight of uncertain weather was an ice storm. The freezing rain fell for hours and coated every surface with a layer of icy glass.
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freezing rain
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trees, bare branches, wait
wood snaps in the stove
budgies peck at cuttle bone
pellets of rain, tossed
at the skylight
a second transparency
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bare twigs turn in wind
to even their coating
in these last moments
before temperature turns
the snowpack on the picnic table
shrinks at the edges
shoves over, makes room
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branches gloss so gradually
candles dipped in a vat of wax
over and over, acquiring thickness
the sky, through the skylight
dimpled tile, rumpled mosaic
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rain stipples bark as narrative
appends to memory, pane here,
light there, layers of glass
cedar twigs turn downward
as fingers, ice builds
layers of skin
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© Jane Tims 2012
eight days – witch ball
When I was visiting my family in Ontario, my eye was constantly drawn to a window where plants were growing. Suspended above them in the window’s light was a ‘witch ball’. The ‘witch ball’ is a hand-blown glass ball with glass threads in the internal space.
The ‘witch ball’ was used in 18th century England to ward off evil spirits. In its modern form, these balls are used for decoration. When the light traverses the glass and enclosed area of the ball, it creates patterns of light and shadow, beautiful and mysterious.
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witch ball
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topsy-thwarted, turn
and tangle, strands
of glass and atmosphere
in innerscape of melted
ash and sand dendritic
paths a maze and morph
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light and shadow
confused
congealed
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© Jane Tims 2012
eight days – snow storm
During my eight days in Ontario, we had a snow storm whose memorable characteristic was the size of its snowflakes. They were the biggest I’ve ever seen, as big as large marshmallows. Every fluffy snowball must have been the composite of a dozen individual snowflakes. After the storm, the trees were coated with white. The cedar were particularly beautiful, with their evergreen leaves each hanging beneath a personal burden of snow.
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deep snow
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snowed all day, sealed us in
knee-deep, snowflakes
the size of mittens, wrists
of cedar hang
weight of snow, on backs of hands
boughs of fir, three-thumbed
and frosted, fists on fence posts
impressions of boot
in the hollow of leg-prints, fingernails play
the wind chime, brief
reminder of summer, signals
in-coming cold
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© Jane Tims 2012
eight days – glass floats
In days before plastic and styrofoam, fishermen used glass and wood to make floats to keep their nets buoyant.
These floats are colorful symbols of the people who make their livelihood from the sea. In fishing communities in the Maritimes, we often see fences and walls festooned with painted wooden floats and buoys.
Glass floats are rarer because they are so breakable. At home, my Dad’s collection of sea shells was always accompanied by a couple of glass floats he found at auctions. On my piano, I have a small collection of glass floats in my favorite color, green.
The tradition lives into the next generation… when I visited my family in Ontario for eight days, earlier this month, I was delighted to see a basket of variously-colored glass floats on the hearth of the wood stove.
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glass floats
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the fog’s still glow
penetrates glass
and air incorporated
an age ago
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weightless, flamboyant
on salt water
swell
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glass inflation
tethered by hemp
on an ocean
whipped to froth
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© Jane Tims 2012
eight days – inuksuk
Recently I was able to take eight days and visit some of my family in Ontario. While I was there, I spent some time drawing and writing. In the next few posts, I will show you some of these drawings and the poems I wrote to accompany them.
The first concerns a small statuette of an inuksuk, carved in northern Canada by an artist who created a gentle, thoughtful tribute to this traditional form.
For more information on the inuksuk, see my post for November 18, 2011, ‘monuments in stone’, under the category ‘the rock project’.
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inuksuk
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soapstone smoothed
and sculpted, carved
by a hand, skilled as ocean
salt-polish and sand
corners discovered
and shadows
edge of stone and surfaces
between solid and liquid
solid and air
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© Jane Tims 2012
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