A thousand silent words~

In silence,

with no fanfare,

you blew your crimson trumpet

and heralded the snow.

Comments

Alice Folkart said…

Looks as if these flowers are indoors and the snow outdoors. Flowers look just a wee bit smug, showing off the transparency of their petals, sticking out their stamens in that saucy way, even exhibiting a bud. Hard for we children of warm climes to understand the impact of a flower, a red bloom and green spiky leaves on people who've been living in cold grayness for months. The poem expands the photo, blows breath into it - yes, no fanfare - just doing our job lady - and the photo pulsates with life. Very nice, Ruth.

January 6, 2010 at 1:33 PM

Michelle said…

What a beautiful picture.

January 6, 2010 at 10:30 PM

Wanda said…

In silence, with no fanfare, I stand in awe of this beauty.

January 8, 2010 at 1:30 AM

Lisa said…

What a perfect, beautiful poem, Ruth! I love it, and what a beautiful photo!!

January 11, 2010 at 2:14 PM

Bob Sanchez said…

Beautiful flowers and poem, Ruth.

Bob

January 20, 2010 at 11:48 AM

Anonymous said…

I keep coming over here to look at this marvelous photo--the brilliant reds, the sparkling snow, the sun shining through...

P.S. Thanks for your kind words over at Rusty Truck.

Barry

January 26, 2010 at 6:07 PM

For Alice~ She's home!!!!!!!

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson Sometimes it's all about knowing that loved ones and friends stand behind you, knowing that support is there on the down days, the worry days, the days when you feel off-center, out of sync, bedraggled emotionally, and in pain, but knowing all the while that you're not alone. You're not alone... Alice is an online friend--she lives in Hawaii-- who belongs to the writer's workshop that I do. We've only "met" online, but those who have online friendships know that they can be just as strong as those in-person relationships. Alice was hit by a car while walking, and is in the rehab phase of things. She's working to regain mobility after a broken pelvis, a broken arm, and a broken nose. It's scary to realize how, in the blink of an eye, life can lurch and our plans for a time are displaced by survival and healing. We...

Killing time~

I'd woken feeling stuffy headed, slightly allergy-ish, puffy-eyed, and a tad grumpy. Lots to do, little time in which to do it, school issues keeping me in a state of angst, I considered not going to David's game. But it was Saturday, the game fairly close to home-- Salem State College-- an hour or so north through Boston to the town of Salem, famous for the 1692 witch trials that saw 19 suspected witches, many of them social outcasts, hang on Gallows Hill. A change of pace was what I needed whether I wanted it or not, so I went. I squeezed in a walk around the block that enclosed Salem State's O'Keefe Center while waiting for the game to begin. Just to kill time. I get so few chances to do that. Others walking, too, passed with no eye contact, no greetings, just sharing the same planet. Two were coming toward me. Still unfocused in the distance . . . one was tall, the other short . . . two men . . . loose clothing . . . like army clothes, camouflage . . . beard and lon...

Missing Becky~

Becky~ August 19, 1991 to April 26, 2010 She was so loved, this gentle pet of mine. And how she loved us back. I've been alone in my house before, of course. Those days when my husband took the kids out for the day, being able to vacuum without a baby in one arm and a toddler, riding the vacuum cleaner like it was a bronco, was solitary pleasure. Later there were quiet days as the kids were at camp and my husband at work. And then came the bittersweet aloneness when kids left home for college and a life apart. Still, I'd always liked being alone, knowing it was short lived. This morning, after my husband pulled out of the driveway with a day full of plans, I stood in the living room feeling alone in a way I never had before. An unfamiliar emptiness and silence surrounded me. Yesterday we put our 18-year-old cat, Becky, to sleep. The decision to do so was surprisingly easy. The vet had told us Becky would let us know when it was time, and somehow she did. But ...

~Upstream and Down~

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