#0144 - An Imagined Forest

The crowd of trees
and shrubbery
and bushes
uproots itself
and dances
to a soundless groove.

The splendorous landscape,
the immersive soundscape:
they're already engaging.
But when one walks along the forest path
with a healthy dose of
imagination,
life can feel more alive
than ever before.

Footsteps echo:
the crunch of dirt
that might lead to a fairy's grove.
Riverwater
trickles down rocks and logs
and tickles the eardrums
like the tapping fingers of a
playful drummer.

The mind's eye
can invigorate the simple scene
with a routine practice
of perfect perception
and ambitious imagination.

#0141 - A New "Order"

This cement, these bricks:
they seem odd to me.
They are the atoms of stones
and sand
and sediment,
cleft apart
and glued together in patchwork.
They represent a rough approximation
of the resplendent order
of the natural world.

Machines and mechanistic manipulations,
though uniquely utilitarian,
forget the aesthetic efficiency
of a scheme
that has permeated
the sum of sensation
for centuries upon centuries.

...Da Vinci
studied flight
by drawing birds.

#0108 - Silhouettes

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 27}

Silhouetted against the night sky,
stars form shapes—
patterns and contours—
in a puppet-show display.

White Rorschach splatters
perform their artistic stillness
on a pitch-black canvas
of infinite vastness.

This is white shade
creating analogous long ears
and slender muzzles and showing
that shadow is a point of view.

#0105 - Cinquain IV

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 24}

Lód

Jest jak
Płynące szkło;
Czysty, naturalny...
Jakoś zaprasza, ale zim-
-ny—mróz.

#0099 - Haiku X

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 18}

Darkness of the night:
The world changes when shed in
A different light.

#0096 - Haiku IX

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 15}

Dry cacti, cool pines;
Vast natural opposites,
Yet each grows sharp spines.

#0081 - Rain

Rain:
the smells and sounds of another plane.
Pitter patter;
raindrops splatter
upon the windshield of my car.

The gleam of city lights
amidst restful dreams and asphalt streets
reflects through spheres of falling water
as curbs shift surges down canals.
This sound: waterfalls.

Is there even a question whether these showers
are tears from angels residing in heaven?
No;
only, are these tears somber
or of laughter?

#0043 - "Green is not the only hue of nature"

Water flowing through the wooded acres,
Carving paths through Daisy-littered grasslands:
Visions I consider ever sacred.

Feel the grassy carpet with your hands and
Do not fear the clouds that fill the distance;
Knowledge, beauty: both are framed by bookends.

Find your place within this precious silence,
Fearing not the storm that's soon arriving;
Rain is part of nature's peaceful parlance.

Drizzle, rain, for now you're steady falling.
Fill this lush verdure and florid pasture,
Fill this landscape with your silent roaring.

Green is not the only hue of nature.

#0039 - "While walking through this sunlit glade"

While walking through this sunlit glade
Well-brightened by this sunny day,
As I was passing, 'long the way,
I chanced upon a fresh bouquet

Of Daisy, Lavender and Rose,
Whose florid odors filled my nose.
From this bouquet my vision rose;
Among the trees were scattered does.

With wary eyes they stared at me,
Who in their home they first time see;
They wonder who this beast could be,
Residing in their forestry.

The flowers are of lovely hue,
But stirring fear I'd quickly rue;
And so I move along in lieu
Of picking florid red and blue.