There’s nothing you can say about rainbows that isn’t a cliché, is there?
I’m saying nothing …
Just looking:
When is a cliché not a cliché?
Images
On turning forty-four
Trees get wrinkles:
And blemishes:
And growths:
There’s beauty, too:
Trees age with grace.
I hope I do, too.
Morning reflections
Tea makes me feel reflective.
(Okay, I enjoy a bad pun once in a while …)
That invisible line, the horizon
Can you see the line between the sky and the sea?
It never rains but it pours
Winters in South Australia are wet and rainy.
Yes, rainy:
Did I say rainy?
I think they’re kind of beautiful, too.
Taking a short break
— A note to my readers —
I’m taking a couple of weeks off.
I’ll be back soon!
Meanwhile —
like my avian companions —
I’ll be holidaying in style …
What are you afraid of?
Our dog won’t walk across this driveway:
He cowers and cries.
(We walk around it instead.)
♦
Fear — always, somehow, inexplicable.
Winter solstice
Winter is …
… wetness, sparkling:
… water sliding off leaves:
… raindrops hanging from flowers:
Short days.
Long, blanketed nights:
A time I’ve learned to love.
Footpath stories – Part II
Footpath stories – Part I
Footpaths don’t grow or breathe or blossom.
They don’t usually inspire me.
And yet …
Maybe I should look more closely.
twenty-one words 