Licht Years

where are you going, where have you been?

Tag Archives: poetry

Last chapter

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Summer sings its long song, and all the notes are green.
But there’s a click, somewhere in the middle
of the month, as we reach the turning point, the apex,
a Ferris wheel, cars tipping and tilting over the top,
and we see September up ahead, school and schedules
returning. And there’s the first night you step outside
and hear the katydids arguing, six more weeks
to frost, and you know you can make it through to fall.
Dark now at eight, nights finally cooling off for sleep,
no more twisting in damp sheets, hearing mosquitoes’
thirsty whines. Lakes of chicory and Queen Anne’s lace
mirror the sky’s high cirrus. Evenings grow chilly,
time for old sweaters and sweatpants, lying in the hammock
squinting to read in the quick-coming dusk.
A few fireflies punctuate the night’s black text,
and the moonlight is so thick, you could swim in it
until you reach the other side.

~ Barbara Crooker

early spring impressions

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sunshine on a cloudy day-

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..and some random ramblings

Spring reminds me of an impressionist painting, as little dots of color start appearing here and there. Seems the color around me is mostly yellow at the moment, as the rabbits have eaten all my purple crocus. I wonder if the purple ones have a sweeter flavor..maybe the yellow is too tart?

Been listening to an old favorite. Debussy seems to go perfectly with Spring and Impressionism.

My little chipmunk friend, Cheeky, has returned. She waits by the deck door most mornings for her handful of peanuts. Sometimes she follows me out to the bird feeder in hopes of catching a few sunflower seeds that spill on the ground.
Amazing how many seeds she can squeeze into those cheeks of hers.

Enjoying these longer days and loving the golden hour light through my dirty windows.

Still avoiding much of the political news on television and social media. Scary and depressing.

Thankful for those little empty spaces in time..

It’s Ours

there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing

that
gentle pure
space

it’s worth

centuries of
existence

say

just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch

that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won’t
get it all

ever.
– Charles Bukowski

I have loved the last two books I’ve read recently-

“My Name is Lucy Barton” by Elizabeth Strout
“All the Broken Things” by Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer

Just started “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” by Annie Dillard
Perfect timing as it’s an exploration on foot in a region of Virginia and we will be heading there and beyond in a couple weeks.

Excited to meet a photographer friend and his family from Scotland this weekend. They will be visiting Boston for a few days. Been following his work on Flickr for a few years now. I find it pretty amazing to think of all the wonderful people – photographers, writers, artists – I’ve met through photography. An incredible, supportive and generous community.

So I’ve rambled enough for now…time to catch up with all of you.

Wishing you a wonderful rest of the week.

passion

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AUTUMN
The passion
Is still flourishing in the branches
Yellow funny and daring red
The sun warms even in the days
Where the fog
Stubbornly in the morning
From a distance
A woodpecker knocks
Impermanence
Is the enemy of beauty

~ Kristian Goldmund Aumann
journal of a nobody

stay where you are

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O Stay where you are! Here
in the uncertain hour of a late afternoon
looking outward and looking in
I see this beauty
all I see is beauty.
Something that convinces, asks to be seen,
though it does nothing, just stays where it is,
and merely by existing wins me over.

~ Patrizia Cavalli

one last look at the autumn flowers
a hard frost is on it’s way

fragments

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Late Fragment

And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

~Raymond Carver