Nature’s Outie

Dried stretchmarks wrap around sawed-off knots

Straining against pregnant life swelling within

Nature’s outie / where life separated from life

Puckered up smirking at everyone who comes by

Covering scars of knots buried / healing over time

Creating a beauty all its own

enjoyed by all

***

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Mish asked us to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words using some form or the word knot. I saw these knots on the side of a tree when we were at the park a couple of weeks ago. I thought they were interesting, so I took a couple of photos of them.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com then click on Mr. Linkey to read more.

Dusk

It was such a beautiful evening, after a very chilly day. I stood on the rise in my back yard looking across into the woods and thought how inspiring the woods becomes at dusk. As the light played on the trees, changes occured right before my eyes. The following poem shares some of my thoughts and feelings.

Dusk… blushes every tall tree with the sun’s glow

Cold December air gently caresses my face

as I stand staring into the darkening woods

Nothing stirs

Birds twitter… huddling together in the cedars

Rabbits burrow down under the blackberry bushes

on a cozy bed of brown leaves

the sky dims

Golden shades turn to gray… then black

Dusk in the woods can be a spiritual experience

As all of God’s creation rests in quiet slumber

************

I took this photo with my iPhone this evening, after taking a walk on the gas line right-of-way behind our house.

New Beginnings

This past week I noticed that my daffodils were beginning to push up through the ground. I have never seen this in November. Sometimes they show through in February, but never in the Fall. Trees have now set their buds and wait through the long winter for a new Spring. As I think about all that has taken place this week, with the election and the projected change in our country’s leadership, I thought this might be a good poem to reflect upon.

At the base of each drying leaf

Is a bud full of life and potential

Waiting patiently for summer’s heat

Or winter’s cold to pass

In the cool of spring

The refreshing showers

The promise of warmth

Sap rises in the cambium

Pushes open that small bud

Enlarging into a new fresh leaf

Green and vigorous

Full of life

Remember…

Behind all that crushes you

Makes you feel devastated

Hopeless and distraught

Lies a bud of strength and potential

Waiting for you to recognize

That your spring has arrived

Once more

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Your Roots

Beneath every tree are roots

Holding… interlocking… feeding

Bringing strength foundation

Roots the source of all beauty we see

looking at a tree

You’ve heard, “Behind every successful man

is a good woman.”

My mother was that good woman

holding interlocking our family

feeding… caring for each one.

My father was a pillar of the community

on strength and nourishment

of my mom who was always there for him.

An unsung hero

she was the roots of our tree.

Without her none of us would be

standing as we are today.

My Father and Mother on their 40th

My father died at age 70. My mom lived to be 93!

Photos; Dwight L. Roth

Woodland Symphony

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Music pours out from shadow and tree
Calling us all to enjoy a reprieve
A melodious symphony straight from the heart
Each tiny instrument playing its part
Miniature voices in perfect pitch
Unwritten scores of notes that are rich
Filled with a beauty beyond man or pen
A symphony of music that will never end

*

Mocking birds solo sopranos and basses
Finding their notes in so many spaces
Piccolo warblers and wren solos start
Antiphonal melodies straight from the heart
*
The bassoon bull frog comes in now and then
Cicadas’ strings play background blends
Crickets and blue jays fill the air
The snare of the trees adds depth to the pair
Woodpeckers drumming on old hollow trees
A staccato rhythm that floats on the breeze
*
Suddenly right out of the blue
The feline conductor brings all in on cue
With a growing crescendo from blue jay and friend
Celloed instruments calling, “This is the end!”
The squirrel plays percussion with his raspy scolding
As the woods fills with music the finale’s unfolding
*
A thunderous applause from the balcony on high
Brings all to their feet flashes crossing the sky
The concert is over the conductor’s gone home
Performers take bows the music is gone

*

Painting: Dwight L. Roth

This is a painting and poem are from a few years ago.  I wrote this as I sat under the trees listening to all that was going on above me. I love the idea of the birds and animals creating an orchestral piece brought on by the neighbors cat!

Morning Bursts Forth

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Morning bursts forth in all its radiant glory.
I peer into the dark sheltered woods
highlighting the trees dancing on flowers.
Stepping stones draw me to the trees;
To the mysterious woods // sheltering the creek
turning to mush in summer’s heat.
Frogs buried in the mud keep cool
sending out their sharp croaks // calling for someone to hear.
Morning breezes soon shift to a sauna of heat and humidity;
But for now// the glorious morning rests on the yellow buttercups.
Orange day lilies bathed in the sunlight reach toward the heavens;
Calling me to come join them…
In the exhilaration of the beckoning day

***

Today’s Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Webbs Mill

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Back in the 1980s our family visited this old mill near Spring Hope, NC. Built along the Tar River, it was no longer in use, but remains a very stately building complex. For many years, it was the center of activity for the town. as farmers brought their grain to be ground. Now it sits idle and in recent years has begun deteriorate badly.
Grinding stones frozen in time
River never stops
Finding resistance in rocks
being shaped in riverbed
Mill remains still
Dying a peaceful death
in trees’ embrace

*****

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Time and Perspective

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“A time for every purpose under heaven…”
A perspective for all of us to consider…

A time for thinking…
Seems everything moves but me
Watching trees turn green

*
Tinnitus drowns cricket’s song
Tick-or-tape thoughts click on by…

***

…Which time will it be for me?

Photo: Dwight L. Roth