Monday, March 31, 2014

The Lucky Few

Few are the lucky ones

Who know wisdom

From the start,

For the rest;

         We must burn our hands

         To learn the stove is hot,

         We must wound with words

         To realize the virtue of silence,

         We must suffer our broken hearts

         To know the true value of love.

Lucky are the few

Who know wisdom

From the start. 

The photo of the flowers is a found image.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

North American Ghost Flight

Above the dry sticks of a winter without rain
Speed great flocks of chattering crows.
They head east into the fading mist at dusk,
As though searching for the ghosts
Of passenger pigeons,
Now lost in the mists of time.

The fields and trees that surround my home are filled with crows, and I must admit to a real fondness for them, despite their rather dubious reputation in the popular mind. The expression "A smiling man with a bad reputation" comes close to it. 

The above poem was written after a late afternoon walk up a steep hill nearby that gives a commanding view of this whole area. I was amazed at the tremendous number of crows flocking as described, reminding me of the descriptions of the now-extinct passenger pigeons darkening the sky like a cloud over the prairie.

The image is Vincent Van Gogh's last painting, called "Wheat Field with Crows"