7:00 am View From Our Patio — Recent Fullmoon Setting Photo-Artistry by kenne
“The moon is friend for the lonesome to talk to.”
― C
Archive for the ‘Carl Sandburg’ Tag
7:00 am View From Our Patio 1 comment
Sandpipers 1 comment
Sandpipers — Image by kenne
Sandpipers
Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes.
Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles —
they write in the morning,
it is gone at noon-they write at noon,
it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea,
the ten mile flats,
pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and feet.
Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles —
they write in the morning,
it is gone at noon-they write at noon,
it is gone at night.
Pity the land, the sea,
the ten mile flats,
pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and feet.
— Carl Sandburg
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Foggy Morning Leave a comment
Foggy Morning (The Woodlands, Texas, March 2003) — Image by kenne
The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.
— Carl Sandburg
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My Neighborhood 2 comments
My Neighborhood — Computer Painting by kenne
Love your neighbor as yourself,
but don’t take down the fence.
— Carl Sandburg
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Windswept Grasslands Leave a comment
Windswept Grasslands in the Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
Taking inspiration from the likes of Lewis Carroll, Robert Frost and Carl Sandburg.
Branches reach into the dark sky
over windswept grasslands,
directing our eyes and ears
to the relationship between
the living and the dead.
— kenne
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Capturing The Moment –Fairy Duster Leave a comment
Fairy Duster — Image by kenne
Fairy Dusters dance to the mountain winds
dusting the air with the magic of color
staging the return of spring.
— kenne
”Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.”
— Carl Sandburg
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“. . . till they came to one wooden pole” Leave a comment
Fall leaves and moss on an old tree stump, Mt. Lemmon. — Image by kenne
these people of the air
these people of the wind,
has a sense of where to go and how,
how to go north north-by-west north,
till they came to one wooden pole,
till they were home again.
— from The People, Yes, by Carl Sandburg
