Pictures holding
History stored
In memory banks
Called to the surface
In a single snap
Of my fingers
Leaving me
Wondering
Why that?
Why now?
Why then?
Times I would
Like either
To forever
Forget or
Always
Remember
Each frame
Projecting
Enough
Power to
Push me into
A time-warp
Of emotions
Unless…
I slow down
Pay attention
Freeze
Each
Frame
Long enough
To grasp
This truth-
The past
Enriches
The present
Either by
Making me
Thankful
For changes
Grateful
For growth
Or content
With constants
Tag: photographs
Personal Collection
I drive past a picture-perfect scene every day. Red barn, green trees and meadows below rolling hills. Offering beauty and reasons for smiling. Looking for the two resident horses is always fun. Sometimes they are close to the road. Other times, resting under the shade of trees.
Recently I began to see additional residents in the field. Deer, from fawn to buck, grazing. Now I look for them each time I pass by. Twice, I witnessed them hopping and playing on the hillside. And grazing under the shade of a sprawling tree.
I attempted a photo from my car once. No luck. Another day, I pulled into a bank parking lot across the street. Snapped several photographs but was unable to fully capture what I saw driving past.
Maybe I will try another location, maybe not. For now, the images remain in my head. And I will keep adding to my collection with each drive past.
Horses rest and roam
Deer leap and play on the hill
Red barn proudly stands
Favorite Questions
What is your favorite color? Perhaps the most asked question of childhood.
You meet a new friend on the playground. What is your favorite color? Drawing a picture in art. What is your favorite color?
My answer is blue. I’m not sure it has always been blue. It seems I remember short periods of loving pink and purple. But now, it is blue.
A beautiful blue sky. My dad’s blue eyes. Waters flowing through lakes, rivers, streams. And of course, the ocean.
The varieties in shades of blue amaze me. I was reminded why on a recent drive down the Pacific Coast Highway.
Looking out over ocean views, I could see the color-changing lines in the water. A perfect separation, as if someone had painted one section then the next. And those blues continued as far as the eye could see, until finally meeting the blues of the sky.
Yes, blue is my favorite color. What is yours? 💙
Lingering on a Corner
Imagining
Rolling hills
Once covered
In grass and dirt
Graced
With trees
And fields
As far as
One could see
Now paved
Rolling hills
City streets
Perfectly lined
With building
After building
Architectures
New and old
Juxtaposed
To create
An endless
Visual puzzle
Architectures
As varied
As the languages
I hear while
Waiting in a line
For breakfast
City of diversity
In every sense
I’m captivated
And caught
Between
Wonder
And Grief
Marveling at
All that surrounds
While walking
Down sidewalks
So many call home
Two Poems
Elbows and Knees
I cried at the sight
Of you frail
Unaware of
My presence-
Chose to remember
Different images
On that day-
Tall and lanky
Uncanny ability
To sit comfortably
On your haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
My college senior
Piano recital
Me in my black dress
You in your blue
Cotton shirt and pants
Both beaming-
Five years later
Christmastime
My newborn son
Sleeping in your arms-
After you were gone
I saw your reflection
As my son sat
On his haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
Pictures of you
Held dear,
Grandpa
Workshirt
The morning
Is dark blue
The kind of blue
That almost
Looks black
But once
The sun rises
Turns to cerulean-
As the day
Progresses
The sky shifts
Until night washes
Over the work
Of the day
Bringing rest
To the Earth-
And rest to you
Handsome you
Strong you
Wearing your
Favorite blue shirt
Faded with time
As the dirt
And sweat
From a lifetime
Of hard work
Was washed away
I wrote the first poem specifically about my Grandpa Crow. He was a sweet man. Hardworking and loved to fish. The second could describe many different people from my growing up years. Maybe you can relate. 😊❤️
Visit to a Cemetery
I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Shaded by
Lovely birch
On a rolling
Green slope
Overseen by
A church
Painted white
Filled with
History on
Both sides
Of glass panes-
I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Cradling remains
Of those gone
From this earth
Centuries ago
Memories
Carved
In marble
Beloved
Daughter, wife, mother
Honored
Son, husband, father
I stood
At the grave
Of a poet
My heart touched
By remembrances
Of persons
I have never met
Old Bennington Cemetery 
The Congregational Church
Old Bennington, Vermont
Grave of Robert Frost and family
Simply Sunday
Days
Enjoying
Art and
Nature
Exploring
Lessons
Offered
By history-
Our own
Others-
Reminiscing
Our combined
Years of living
In only seven
Of these
Precious
Allotments
Of time
Each holding
The same
Number
Of hours
Each passing
Too quickly
Tanglewood 
Olana 
Old Bennington 
Grave of Robert Frost 
Simply Sunday
Dirt On My Hands
I am the first to admit I can be a little prim and proper regarding dirt and sweat. I have fun memories of playing in the mud as a kid. Didn’t bother me then.
Yesterday, I suggested we go by flowers to plant in our front bed. My husband agreed. But guess what? They don’t transplant themselves.
My job was taking the plants out of the pots, breaking up the soil, and carefully placing them in their new home. My hands got dirty. Black, rich soil even managed to get under my fingernails.
Before you pat me on the back, this was a short project. Only a little dirt and sweat. 😉 The results? Definitely worth getting a little dirt on my hands.
Simply Sunday
I decided to try something different this weekend-Simply Sunday. The idea is to show one subject using few words and a variety of forms. Keeping it short and sweet! Enjoy! 💛
Daffodils
Lovely yellow blooms
Watercolor memories
Brighter in person
Old Friends
The rain stopped
Some drops lingered
In the rich soil
Beneath the tree-
Resting after the
Long journey
On the tip
Of a pine needle,
One drop called out
Or perhaps, up
To its dear friend,
Sunshine
It’s your turn!
I’m waiting!
Send your rays
My way-So that
We may have
A moment of fun
Can’t you see?
We belong together
Simply shine your
Light on me
And watch the branch
Begin to glisten
The sun obliged
Sending its rays
To pierce the clouds
And touch the Raindrop
The two old friends
Danced and played
While the branch
Glistened and smiled
Soon, each went their way
But neither said goodbye
Knowing they would
Meet again another day
Piano Girl 