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...

This retirement thing~

This retirement thing . . . it seems like it should be so easy, so effortless, so thrilling, to stop the daily grind. It is thrilling; at least I think it will be come September when I'm not following the school buses to work. But it's not easy. I had a plan book on my desk for 35 years, one I filled in weekly, scheduling new lessons at 45-minute intervals, meetings, parent conferences, and field trips. I knew what needed to be done and when. I got up at the same time everyday (5:45 a.m.), ate lunch at the same time (12:06 p.m.) and watched the kids pack their bags for home everyday at 2:15 p.m. I'm not sorry to give up that regimentation. But three weeks into the summer, I find myself making lists of things I need to do, and there is so much to do that I can't imagine how I managed while I was working eight hours on top of it all. There are the household chores, gardening, exercise (aren't retirees supposed to get fitter?), freelance writing, book reviewing, readin...

Quantico~

Quantico Marine Corps Base is home of the Officer Candidate School my husband attended back when the Viet Nam War still raged. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ With an eight-hour drive ahead of us, if all goes perfectly, we'll be in Virginia at 1500 today. On Thursday, my husband will join hundreds of former Marines for the 41st reunion of those who graduated from Officer Candidate School at Quantico Marine Corp Base. Most haven't communicated, let alone seen each other, since 1967. Email has been flying for nearly a year as the committee worked to make the reunion possible. And now with the event schedule in hand, we're off. Only it's not called a schedule. It's a sit rep. Actually, Sit Rep it says on the top sheet. "A what?" "A situation report," Bruce says. The three-day agenda is printed in military time. That's as bad as the metric system. So I draw myself a normal clock, and jot the military hours beside the numbers on the normal person's clock. I wi...

~Upstream and Down~

Search This Blog