
A snowbound road too slick to pass
Diversions and detours along the way.
How is it that life seems to stop,
Because it is a snowy day?
How can a flake so delicate,
Hold great machines at bay –
When it so easily melts away?
A snowbound road too slick to pass
Diversions and detours along the way.
How is it that life seems to stop,
Because it is a snowy day?
How can a flake so delicate,
Hold great machines at bay –
When it so easily melts away?
I had a look at the azure sky
As clouds ethereal – insubstantial drifted by
I spied there a dove delicate – frail
The symbol of benevolent peace there fly
Padre
“Take the five challenge words and NOT use them in your writing.
Your words are:
Maria Antonia’s 2021 Photo Challenge includes a category of Sunlight/Moonlight. This photo I think captures that transition period of sunlight’s retreat before yielding way to moonlight. It was taken on a cruise near the Canary Islands.
Sunlight retreating, yielding way
Off for a rest at the close of day
Sister Luna shall take oversight
And hold her vigil throughout the night
Then like clock-work at the dawn
The sun shall return with a stretch a yawn
Padre
Loud rapid drumming
Sounds rhythmic in the pine wood
Echoes of intent
Padre
Pines
Fragrant
Standing guard
Along roadway
Twisting and snaking
On a journey travelled
By just the pine-scented breeze
Not disturbed by mere human kind
Tranquil nature expressing true joy
Being itself and absolutely free
Padre
Selene, why do you stare so?
What is it that attracts you here below?
As your face shines down upon us
Is there something particular you seek to know?
Are our lives of such interest
That you shed light upon them even as we sleep?
Or is it merely that you are restless
As your silver vigil you keep?
Padre
Shared on dVerse
Early morn and a light fog cloaks the land
Earth crisp with the touch of Winter’s hand
Cold air sharp on nose and lungs
As you venture outwards under the weak sun
Early morn – the starlings begin their day
The frozen meadow underfoot crunches
As you make your way
Padre
Swirling murmurations fill the air
Thousands dance as if without a care
Soon to roost and in darkness sleep
But not before one more flowing ballet o’er the deep
Padre
Away from it all
No need for those masks
Cutting firewood –
Drawing water – your only tasks
Away from it all – it feels so free
None of the concerns of the big city
And yet the holiday will come to an end
But don’t worry about that till next weekend
Padre
A squirrel hunting in the mountains
Searching for acorns among the fallen leaves
Filling up her winter larder
Before the ground does solid freeze
Diligent little creature
Storing up for the winter rest
She seems so lively
As she goes about her quest
Padre