There are a few things January does best.
Pines, sky blues, and winter whites.
Pale leafless branches and bright unfiltered light.
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photographed january 7, 2021
january’s best
Tag: poem
hush … winter
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My trees, my writing, my photos.
This is a page from the writing/photo project I put together for holiday gifts.
https://etikser.home.blog/2020/11/18/words/
winding road
winding road
hair flying every which way
grassy hills and open fields
farms and cows and weeds
everything a kid could see
under the canopy
it’s still quiet
not quite night
soft
rain
drops
on leaves
somewhere
high above
it’s quiet and it’s still dry
under the canopy
beneath the cover
of leaves
high above me
photographed may 5, 2020
a hazy moon on a stormy night
the clouds move out
and the air’s gone quiet
photographed june 4, 2020
trees
“Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness.”
― Kahlil Gibran
way up high
way up high
where the north winds blow
there’s a song that calls
and soothes my ragged soul
way up high
where the north winds blow
there’s a tune that winks
a rustle that sighs
there’s a hum that waves and smiles
and calms my ragged soul
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etikser
clicks n’ sticks
clicks, sticks, bricks, ticks
rickety ticks on sticks and rocks
fickle ticks from deer stick
tricky ticks stick to socks
two ticks
few ticks
who’s ticks
deer’s ticks
sticks on bricks
rickety ticks
ticks on socks
sticks and rocks
inspiration: Dr. Seuss
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etikser
magical
This soft, pink, feathery blur, filtering reality.
The glistening hush of snowflakes, brushing by shivering trees.
The glow of a candle flame, in a dark room on a cold night.
The milky way stretching out, on a black, velvet, moonless sky.
magical
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etikser
night time
Night time softness.
Almost soundless.
A click. A tick.
Sporadic hiss.
Stealthy paws. Rustling leaves.
Nature’s pause. Squeaky cheeps.
A sigh. A shush.
Voiceless whispers.
Hushed muffles, nearly nothingness.
Midnight’s swathe of timeless
silence.
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etikser
etikser 