There is a symmetry in nature
that calls out to the human heart.
A symmetry that is not designed,
but that is happenstance,
repeated over and over again,
sensibility out of chaos.
To recognize this is awesome,
allowing the quixotic
to be known and understood
and appreciated in our lives.
Beauty for its own sake
and really nothing more.
Recognized and appreciated
for nothing more than what it is.
A respite for our harried lives,
solace for our worries,
comfort for our concerns,
and purpose for our being.
Treasure it and embrace it,
revel in its beauty,
wrap yourself in its raiment
as though it were a cocoon.


A shadow moves o’er the land
and touches Lizzie’s grave.
On a silent day in spring
only windblown leaves speak,
but they speak not of Lizzie,
and she speaks not of them.
Upon the promontory
where she lies in repose,
one can see the rolling river
that flows beneath her feet.
As her bones turned to dust
beneath the cold, wet ground,
the seasons came and went
without regard for Lizzie,
without mention of her dreams,
all of which came to naught.
Countless stars have twinkled
upon her final resting place
on endless, ancient nights,
a diadem she cannot wear,
a crown she does not need,
in this time, not her own.


I only have time this morning to post a photo. I’m sure anyone who follows, or stumbles across, the blog will be thrilled that I didn’t bore them with more poetry or rambling commentary. Anyway, this is a photo I took on Sunday of Latte, the oldest of our two ferrets. She’s two and a half and as sweet and satisfying as the coffee-based concoction for which she is named.

Frozen Mist

Photo taken two days ago at the overflow for the mill dam near our home. The water was rushing through so rapidly that it was creating a mist which was freezing to the weeds adjacent to the stream. It doesn’t capture the beauty of the moment the way I hoped it would, but maybe I’m being to critical of the way the shot came out.