tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78495462817763854202024-03-19T20:31:42.050-07:00Poems for TreesKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-62568323013249106232020-01-12T11:25:00.000-08:002020-01-12T11:25:03.012-08:00Snowflake<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">If every
snowflake is unique<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Does that
mean every snowfall is its own exponentially individual event?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Did this
hardened, driving, icy pellet feel differently than last week’s drifting icing
sugar?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">What does
ego sound like inside a cloud?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Bursting
forth, a loosed race horse<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Legs red
hot with pent up fury and kinetic energy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Screaming
from the sky<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Meeting the
sodden, fading green, winter-weary ground below<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Does it
change its mind when it lays down?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Cheeks
cooling, gently interlacing fingers with the others nearby<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Eyelids
heavy, ready for a long night’s sleep<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Waking in
the morning to cresting sunrise<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Shy smiles
sparkling despite themselves<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Blushing
crystals, winking and twinkling in the January light<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Under a
warming sun they slide along a tree’s icy branches<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Surrendering
to gravity; to the current of a rivulet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Eyes closed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">A whispered
sigh<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Energy
dissipated<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">All as one
again (as always before)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Individuality
- an idea; uniqueness- a wish<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Until the
next storm gathers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">And the
curtain rises on the performers, once again<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-77196028034850731302019-05-27T13:48:00.000-07:002019-05-27T13:48:38.527-07:00ChallengeCrunching gravel and rustling leaves<br />
Sunshine, and birdsong, and wind on water<br />
Mix equal parts binoculars and hiking shoes, let sit for 5 minutes: instant team<br />
Shared joy and growing excitement<br />
Butterflies flutter, dancing in the evening sun<br />
The air buzzes with the sounds and feelings of night<br />
Arbitrary rules never felt so powerful<br />
Intense intent<br />
Watching, listening, chasing, learning<br />
Laughing<br />
Wings beat overhead; a silhouette against gray sky<br />
Eyes alight, delight with discovery<br />
Efficient. Energetic. Ruthless. Competitive.<br />
Go, go, go, go, go, go<br />
Rain pours <br />
Sun pours<br />
Time stalls, stills and races in irregular pulses<br />
Stop here - NOW! Perfect.<br />
6 wide yellow eyes blink at us across the afternoon gloom<br />
Then, in a flash, it's over<br />
Victory - celebrating quietly; then cawing noisily, crows.<br />
A success.<br />
And I leave happier than I came; bringing home my own invisible trophyKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-58584676936890639582018-07-08T14:57:00.001-07:002018-07-08T14:57:11.838-07:00Surface/UnderHot wet July air above<br />
Cold deep ancient dark below<br />
I break the surface<br />
Sun-warmed limbs bursting into the chill<br />
<br />
I move in the tension zone<br />
The sun showers down<br />
Yellow, blinding, smiling<br />
Raining heat<br />
I plunge my face into the water<br />
Blue, green, silent, empty<br />
<br />
The only sound is the splash<br />
That I make<br />
As I dance clumsily <br />
Between two worlds<br />
<br />
The aquamarine is pierced<br />
By ropes of translucent light<br />
Rays penetrate deep into the cold<br />
Beyond where I can see<br />
… who's down there, watching me?<br />
<br />
The still full lake is burst apart<br />
By my eager fingers<br />
Which comb through desperately<br />
Black bubbles forming at my fingertips<br />
Until they're whisked upward by the world above<br />
<br />
Steadily, my hands and arms<br />
Scratch a rhythm into the lake<br />
Which is muted and swallowed<br />
As soon as my feet kick away<br />
<br />
Eventually, I'm ejected back to the surface<br />
Panting, spent<br />
The golden sun welcomes me back<br />
Above rusting emerald-leaved maples<br />
<br />
A deep breath<br />
<br />
The coldest waters below<br />
Tug my ankle<br />
Once<br />
.. smirkingKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-3455813143270465132018-02-26T17:40:00.001-08:002018-02-26T17:40:26.554-08:00Putting Pain to PaperThe black rotting gaping cavity<br />
That yawned open in my heart<br />
Spewed its venom through my veins<br />
Filled my blood with dark pain<br />
<br />
Aching in my fingertips<br />
Blurring my brain's attempt to make peace<br />
Leaving me a shell of what I was<br />
Racking me with anger, tears, fear, clutching, grasping, gasping, sobbing<br />
<br />
Swirling like a witches brew<br />
Poisoning my breath<br />
Withering my spirit<br />
<br />
It took me<br />
It broke me<br />
I lost me<br />
<br />
I feel it flowing out of me<br />
Through the tip of my pen<br />
My soul starts to tingle back to life<br />
I hear you laughing<br />
I put you everywhere you belong<br />
Healing the raw open sores<br />
That blighted the places where I loved you<br />
<br />
It escapes through my tears<br />
Trickles from my eyes, black and sour<br />
It flows from my every footfall as I determinedly crunch through<br />
the February snow<br />
<br />
Your words, your faith in me<br />
Your smile<br />
Replaces the pain<br />
<br />
The memories wash over me<br />
Rinsing, cleansing, mending<br />
I use them to plug the holes<br />
Recirculate them to reinforce my strength<br />
<br />
Pushing out the black<br />
Inviting in the light<br />
<br />
The world is so much worse<br />
Without you here<br />
But I know you can't come back<br />
So I'll keep sending the pain out<br />
And letting the good in<br />
<br />
For you.Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-20656577241363848682018-02-26T17:35:00.001-08:002018-02-26T17:35:14.429-08:00SwallowedAll is white<br />
Muffling blanketing coating of white snow<br />
Monochrome unchanging steely white sky<br />
Imperceptible yet deafening silence<br />
White noise<br />
White house, white door, windows draped<br />
In curtains of solid<br />
White<br />
<br />
My muted footsteps crunch across the white<br />
My white breath puffs in front of me<br />
White crystals form on my eyebrows<br />
The chill of the air nips at my white cheeks<br />
<br />
I feel it before I see it<br />
A magnetic sucking, drawing all towards it<br />
A glimmer of dark on the ivory landscape<br />
Sound breaks through the static<br />
A growl - a starved stomach, a wounded animal<br />
<br />
My face turns away, determined, looking homeward<br />
Traitor feet, though, step toward<br />
The black mirage<br />
Its energy crackles with angry darkness<br />
Which bubbles in my chest<br />
<br />
I move forward through the snow, closer now to it<br />
An angry gaping mouth<br />
A dark slash, a knife wound on alabaster skin<br />
It's swallowing the white world<br />
<br />
Huge chunks of white snow, like floes from icebergs<br />
Topple inside<br />
The white house's foundation crumbles at the edge<br />
White cinder blocks crash into the deep<br />
<br />
The black hole groans<br />
Evilly satisfied<br />
Devouring the clean, silent day<br />
Growing larger and more powerful the more it absorbs<br />
<br />
Examining its edge, I see two white boots<br />
Toes perched on the precipice<br />
Attach to legs, a torso<br />
My heart<br />
My eyes, alive with terror<br />
<br />
Arms flailing<br />
The white ground beneath me vanishing<br />
And I am swallowed, tooKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-70910402266864438582018-02-26T17:30:00.001-08:002018-02-26T17:30:41.420-08:00January 16 2018The world is too bright today<br />
Sunshine blinds me<br />
Glittering snow burns my cheeks<br />
Laughter pierces; my eardrums vibrate painfully<br />
Smiles warp into sharp-toothed advances<br />
<br />
Soft fur under my hand is steel wool<br />
The pillow under my head the jaws of life<br />
Every bite of food<br />
Leaves the metallic iron aftertaste<br />
Of blood<br />
<br />
The things that once meant something<br />
Are fools errands, just filling time<br />
<br />
Jokes rise into the air and freeze<br />
Falling to the ground and shattering<br />
Like breath on an arctic winter morning<br />
<br />
My heart once beat with joy<br />
Now every thump a dull ache<br />
Squeezing, throbbing, breaking<br />
<br />
You left, and you took the good with you<br />
All I'm left with is artificial fluorescent light:<br />
Harsh<br />
Blinding<br />
Abrasive<br />
<br />
The world is too bright todayKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-55850201745063409022017-11-16T16:39:00.002-08:002017-11-16T16:45:41.602-08:00Forest BathingDark green spindles, from long stark branches<br />
Towering trees in soldier-straight formation<br />
They reach out their arms to one another<br />
Block the sun<br />
A shadow falls heavily across the plantation floor<br />
Barren, carpeted in the soft orange of years past<br />
<br />
Life cannot thrive here<br />
Or so I think<br />
<br />
"Breathe deeply," she says<br />
"Close your eyes and listen."<br />
I hear silence<br />
But then...<br />
<br />
The rustle from above - an unseen bird fluttering from branch to branch<br />
And the wind sliding through those tight boughs<br />
And the creaks of gently yielding pines<br />
<br />
"Now let's walk - go more slowly than you've ever walked before; <br />
Look for movement"<br />
Once again, I see nothing<br />
Quiet emptiness, still and sterile<br />
Until...<br />
<br />
There is movement from the corner of my eye<br />
And then a bright white clown-like face is peering inquisitively<br />
At our slow-moving group<br />
A nuthatch watching these padding, plodding, lady sloths<br />
<br />
A yellowed leaf, not long for this shrub<br />
Twirls dervishly in the a breeze I cannot feel<br />
Frantic among the quiet understory<br />
And an insect zooms through the air, just above me<br />
Bound for the next tree<br />
<br />
I crane my neck backwards<br />
And see those orderly soldiers swaying together<br />
Concert-goers, shoulder to shoulder<br />
Gliding back and forth to an old favourite<br />
The stir of September wind<br />
<br />
At this speed<br />
(Which feels like going backwards it's so slow<br />
To my frantic and frenzied feet)<br />
Even the quietest of nature comes alive<br />
With sound, movement, sights and smells<br />
And I see for the first time<br />
The thrumming, humming jungle, packed with life<br />
Where I thought there were only pine treesKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-65901727761925469932017-07-30T06:12:00.002-07:002017-07-30T06:12:48.843-07:00Tree Cathedral<div>
Footsteps absorbed by packed dirt trail<br />
A lone pewee issues a plaintive cry<br />
A light breeze ruffles leaves of maple<br />
Otherwise the forest is quiet</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We sink deeper into a valley<br />
And the hills rise up higher on either side<br />
As our muffled for footfall propels us forward<br />
The sunlight is muted and dappled on the forest floor</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Enjoying the sights passing by my boots<br />
Splayed sarsaparilla<br />
Shiny mayflower<br />
Yellowing cohosh<br />
I suddenly feel compelled to look up<br />
<br />
In the world is awash in emerald green<br />
Where July sunshine hits richly chlorophylled leaves<br />
Green ignites<br />
Firefly green, fireworks green, phosphorescent green<br />
My footsteps slow<br />
<br />
I crane my neck back in awe<br />
How did these trees get so tall?<br />
They CN Tower over my humble head</div>
<div>
<br />
And what do they know? </div>
<div>
What have they seen?<br />
And how come they're talking to me?<br />
I stand, reverent</div>
<div>
Unable to pinpoint the feeling, other than<br />
I am part of this.<br />
and<br />
I am very small.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then our path winds up… up… up</div>
<div>
The trees fall back slightly from heights of giants<br />
Their bark once more in reach of my searching hand<br />
Cool to the touch even in summer's heat<br />
<br />
When we pass through the sacred spot again </div>
<div>
On our way back out into blistering unfiltered summer sun<br />
I nod my respects to the cathedral's green</div>
<div>
To its towering statues<br />
And look forward to my next worship</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
</div>
Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-16469555313775163712017-02-26T13:54:00.001-08:002017-02-26T13:55:58.189-08:00FebruaprilSunlight streams through winter-smudged windows<br />
Cold blue sky and puffy clouds<br />
Over yards of white snow, coarse like sugar<br />
It could be any February day<br />
<br />
Then a fly<br />
Catches my eye<br />
Clinging to the window screen<br />
Circling hesitantly, one tentative footfall after another<br />
Peering in at me from outside<br />
<br />
Curious, I ease open the front door<br />
And as February air gusts in<br />
I instinctively hunch my shoulders against impending cold<br />
But instead, warm spring washes over me<br />
<br />
Almost simultaneously, I'm racing through my house;<br />
Frantically pumping bicycle tires;<br />
Searching for helmets and sunglasses buried under so many toques and scarves;<br />
As if at any moment a blizzard could crash through<br />
And take it all away<br />
<br />
And then I'm soaring<br />
Bathing in the moist, warm, scented day<br />
Pedaling faster and faster<br />
As if not to miss a single square foot of spring<br />
<br />
Whizzing over a bridge<br />
I hear the rush of meltwater crashing through a riverbed<br />
Tree branches heavy with buds rustle over the stream<br />
Murmuring polite hellos to one another after months of silence<br />
<br />
I speed past a farm field<br />
That blinks green where snow is rapidly slinking away<br />
I breathe deeply<br />
And smell the damp, sweet, earthen scents of life<br />
<br />
Where ice still stubbornly coats trails<br />
I ease off my summer ride<br />
And step gingerly through April-deep mud<br />
My footfalls stirring the slumber of insects<br />
Who spiral lazily upward, then down again<br />
<br />
I reach my arms wide<br />
Tilt my face to the sun<br />
<br />
It's eerie, though welcome<br />
And it won't stay<br />
But awoken from my own torpor of winter dormancy<br />
Today I will fly a little too<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Temperatures fall<br />
Muddy footsteps immortalize, frozen in time<br />
Snowflakes swirl from steel gray skies<br />
The ground dusted once more in white<br />
<br />
And I wait...Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-56754377922397481582016-11-29T07:06:00.000-08:002016-11-29T07:10:56.526-08:00Snowy Owl"This isn't quite right...", she thinks<br />
Though the carpet of pristine snow and<br />
Sharp blue skies of mid-day<br />
Convince her otherwise<br />
For a moment<br />
<br />
A scurrying movement across the landscape<br />
Two hundred feet away<br />
Catches her yellow eye<br />
And she tilts her ear instinctively to follow the noise<br />
<br />
Field mouse<br />
Her stomach grumbles for lemming and goose<br />
<br />
The landscape, stubbled with remains of golden cornstalks poking through the snow<br />
Is criss-crossed with paths<br />
That machines rumble across regularly<br />
Their roar, at first, reminiscent of tundra winds<br />
Peering faces from within bring her south again<br />
<br />
Across the field, she spots another hunched white figure<br />
Atop a telephone pole<br />
Two pairs of cat-like eyes lock<br />
And it is understood that each will remain staunchly in their corner<br />
<br />
Food is scarce<br />
Warm winds blow in cool rain<br />
Peering faces follow her every move<br />
"... this isn't quite right..."<br />
<br />
Her giant white wings beat dramatically in takeoff<br />
Then she glides noiselessly over the frozen corn<br />
Toward the mouse<br />
Whose fate is already decided by the great northern huntress<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvGGlusLRMVcSnJvKOMGbqtRj-hg8BuL4go6Z_3KlXIALUgsQeflLRwoFfus0IukQm2h9ENLC7_2_ls4mf14agMxA2NwvA_HWtSmcXLwATDZouiOaYox8BtQvkpO8q_2ck4_O6OiRCFtj/s1600/IMG_1255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvGGlusLRMVcSnJvKOMGbqtRj-hg8BuL4go6Z_3KlXIALUgsQeflLRwoFfus0IukQm2h9ENLC7_2_ls4mf14agMxA2NwvA_HWtSmcXLwATDZouiOaYox8BtQvkpO8q_2ck4_O6OiRCFtj/s640/IMG_1255.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowy Owl - photo by Kristyn Ferguson :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-74709938963467722292016-08-08T05:07:00.002-07:002016-08-08T05:07:07.770-07:00Windswept (Iceland)<div style="text-align: center;">
Monochrome deserts.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Volcanic sand blows gray in the cool wind</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lava rocks reach craggy hands from the grave</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Palest yellow lichens crawl and cling</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Rutted moonscapes race out to the endless horizon</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6i1st4DsFYN_qfks1ZgxJQlGX4xJc875arw-Cn8AfrNiABw68_rql-FkNWc5tE4nbVSbaLiW3OdpV_PGzMJ9vKb70MBfu2ePGazlS-SYeTp4EXe5xLDeZg_I1x0bsfuz4R_uOgCm3v1yy/s1600/IMG_3457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6i1st4DsFYN_qfks1ZgxJQlGX4xJc875arw-Cn8AfrNiABw68_rql-FkNWc5tE4nbVSbaLiW3OdpV_PGzMJ9vKb70MBfu2ePGazlS-SYeTp4EXe5xLDeZg_I1x0bsfuz4R_uOgCm3v1yy/s400/IMG_3457.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: center;">Green hills.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Rising up on all sides, at all times</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A smatter of spruce here</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A tumble of fallen rock there</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Switchback roads scaling up, up, up</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Puffs of white sheep, defying gravity, polka dot verdant verticals</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Steaming pools.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The stench of sulfur wafting upward</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Black sand gives way to raw, hot, amber soil</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The ground alive and smoking</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Gushing, bubbling, bursting geysirs</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Escaping the earth's molten depths</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tie-dyed mountains.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Deep autumn hues of maroon, copper and ochre</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Streaked with cool blue-gray and slate green</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Strung together in a line</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Banded brazenly in their shared strangeness</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Black beaches.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sand dark as night</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ebony arches thrust out of bluest oceans</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Columns of basalt, sculpted by volcanic gods</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Perfect hexagonal cylinders, towering over the shore</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pounding water.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Coursing through ancient gorges</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Carved by ages of meltwater</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Frothing gray in the afternoon clouds</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thundering downwards hundreds of feet</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Before winding peacefully away into the distance</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2Vhftcl_359yJdV6pHMO-WQen7rGuiRmBE7D9k-CICpP4dSRoKjKrwRneTrhZrJgEVKaTdKSDZqFMt4qHE1172hEd2A1GLwOpiaOlBfnvwYoH8H5og68WUJr7bemrAnwbzpp2BcqlE7s/s1600/IMG_3691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ2Vhftcl_359yJdV6pHMO-WQen7rGuiRmBE7D9k-CICpP4dSRoKjKrwRneTrhZrJgEVKaTdKSDZqFMt4qHE1172hEd2A1GLwOpiaOlBfnvwYoH8H5og68WUJr7bemrAnwbzpp2BcqlE7s/s400/IMG_3691.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Frosty blues.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Turquoise popsicles jutting out of falling glaciers</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Icebergs split open to reveal candy-aqua inside</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lakes and lagoons milky azure</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Their depths hiding history, slimy silica, and secrets</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5Q4XdnqM5BUFrkODfRBziZ3rMFkC8I7kPjWLc2QGb6HafYoXaAJD9GOylsam87CrKeZ3ROii8xFYJKwUQCYf-o2nOL87LgIW9j_ZwDqbPkrrTKwr3o-Fm3CaWbwqoYFteDV_6-z8NMyc/s1600/IMG_2266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5Q4XdnqM5BUFrkODfRBziZ3rMFkC8I7kPjWLc2QGb6HafYoXaAJD9GOylsam87CrKeZ3ROii8xFYJKwUQCYf-o2nOL87LgIW9j_ZwDqbPkrrTKwr3o-Fm3CaWbwqoYFteDV_6-z8NMyc/s400/IMG_2266.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Orange beaks.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On flying, waddling, tumbling</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hiding, hopping, snoozing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fish-collecting, dive-bombing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cliff-nesting penguins of the north: puffins</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmr_YTxii9ARY5C9iUJ4aZdw9qA4EdUMgOWWCtMwSyb8WVdkje0HdscHQvvaH-MMktMwohxiSHR1iw4MdPYNvXQNsWzTdR_725D3e1G80BMLpXZ-xuKkESWYBaI-a7p5wQs6gg_u8rPio/s1600/IMG_4098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmr_YTxii9ARY5C9iUJ4aZdw9qA4EdUMgOWWCtMwSyb8WVdkje0HdscHQvvaH-MMktMwohxiSHR1iw4MdPYNvXQNsWzTdR_725D3e1G80BMLpXZ-xuKkESWYBaI-a7p5wQs6gg_u8rPio/s400/IMG_4098.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Windswept.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The blonde bangs of a brown Icelandic horse</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The cod dangling in a shack by the sea</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The roof of a turfhouse long abandoned</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The wrecks of so many ships who got too close</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My hair, across my eyes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My heart, to see all of this</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-92217677135198078822016-08-08T04:39:00.000-07:002016-08-08T04:39:01.208-07:00Three Degrees CelsiusThe ice rain crackled relentlessly<br />
Against our layers of waterproof rubber<br />
The cold mist soaking through mittens<br />
And dusting ruddy cheeks<br />
<br />
Its dance across the night sky<br />
Reminding us that Canadian winter<br />
Will not be ushered out<br />
By anything as trivial<br />
As the calendar reading "April"<br />
<br />
I was back again<br />
Waiting for <a href="http://poemsbykristyn.blogspot.ca/2016/02/barred.html">Barred Owls</a><br />
To pierce the night with their rich song<br />
To pierce my soul with their intense brown-eyed stare<br />
<br />
Again and again we stop<br />
And listen<br />
No frogs. No robins. No owls.<br />
Only our cold breath and the evening air<br />
<br />
Nearing the end of our circuit<br />
Hearts heavy with disappointment<br />
I stared up at the towering black spruce trees<br />
I could just make out the foggy white light of the full moon<br />
Behind the trees, behind the clouds<br />
<br />
Standing for twelve minute intervals of anticipation<br />
Exposed to the frozen April night<br />
I discovered "cold yoga"<br />
And stretched<br />
<br />
I cleared my busy mind.<br />
I was aware of my surroundings.<br />
I was deep in the moment.<br />
At three degrees celsius.<br />
<br />
I completed a "moon salutation"<br />
And as I squinted up<br />
I witnessed the exact moment the wet clouds<br />
Slithered backward off the moon<br />
Revealing its full brilliant blue-white glow<br />
<br />
Suddenly: spruce trees, glittering stars, full moon<br />
And I noticed the rain had stopped<br />
And I heard the full, enveloping vacuum of the utter silence of the night<br />
No owls. But I was at peace.<br />
<br />
At our next stop, lit white with glorious moonshine<br />
I smiled up at the stars<br />
Grains of salt smattered across a canvas of inky black<br />
And lived fully in that minute<br />
<br />
And perhaps because I'd stopped straining to hear it<br />
Peering to see it<br />
An owl suddenly alighted<br />
On the tree branch in front of me<br />
<br />
It cocked its head sideways<br />
I gaped back at it, frozen in joy<br />
<br />
Then sound gurgled forth from it<br />
Slow at first, then growing in insistence<br />
"<i>Wah... wop... woo...</i><br />
<i>...who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?</i>"<br />
<br />
Excitement. Adrenaline.<br />
Peace. Zen.<br />
Moonlight. Trees, Owls.<br />
Perfection. At three degrees celsius.Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-29098866848669934912016-04-09T18:54:00.001-07:002016-04-09T19:01:25.921-07:00After the RainstormThunderous dark clouds sneak over the horizon<br />
On their easterly path<br />
To soak, to surprise, to ruin the days<br />
Of their next victims<br />
<br />
They leave behind air thick with mist<br />
Smelling heavily of roses<br />
And the threat of ocean from heaven<br />
Once again<br />
<br />
Blue, gray, murky, opaque<br />
A hand passes slowly through the mist<br />
Catching sparkles of moisture<br />
Which glitter on the tanned, dirt-laced working gloves<br />
Callused from labour and time<br />
<br />
Time slows<br />
Hands tick slowly... more slowly...<br />
Motionless<br />
Backwards<br />
<br />
Sun suspended somewhere beyond<br />
The thick net of vapour<br />
Which eludes the eyes<br />
Eyes mistaking rivers for skies, skies for rivers<br />
In the gathering gloom<br />
<br />
Salted water weaves through fields<br />
Wheat which sways in dry summer heat<br />
Now drips, leans, bends<br />
In wet, still, sorrow<br />
Tears roll down<br />
<br />
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<i><br /></i>
<i>Written July 27, 2005 (found in a drawer on April 9, 2016)</i>Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-34951185970822586162016-03-05T18:10:00.001-08:002016-03-05T18:10:13.456-08:00Wilson IslandIt starts with waves<br />
Lapping at and sliding between the smooth gray cobbled rocks on shore<br />
<br />
That stony beach gives way to a tangle of shrubs<br />
That claw at tender legs passing through them<br />
<br />
Then forest<br />
Mixed at first, with conifers and broad-leaved trees mingling together at the party<br />
Patches of sunlight warm the forest floor<br />
<br />
Deeper in, light filters out and dark boughs of spruce and fir draw closely together<br />
They interlock their needled fingers and stand tall to challenge any passer-bys<br />
<br />
Trying to follow the four-legged journey of a deer in a line through the deep woods<br />
I am no match<br />
Those dark branches like arms hug me closer<br />
Wrap around my backpack straps<br />
Slip inside my belt loops<br />
Slyly pull my sunglasses right off my face<br />
They tug me backward while I struggle forward<br />
<br />
In the distance I see light penetrating the shadows<br />
And march one leg at a time toward it<br />
Ignoring the grasping hands at my ankles<br />
<br />
Beneath my feet the forest floor turns into a moss carpet<br />
A plush emerald cloud that bounces under me<br />
My footprints disappear as quickly as I leave them<br />
<br />
At last I burst out of the forest's dusk and meet the light<br />
The blue sky<br />
The puffy white clouds<br />
The golden sunshine<br />
And an expanse of indigo inland lake alive with singing birds, splashing fishes, and buzzing insects<br />
<br />
I watch. I write. I rest.<br />
Then I steel myself for my return journey to the big water<br />
And all that lies betweenKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-33558109476045777652016-03-05T17:59:00.005-08:002016-08-08T05:26:51.255-07:00UnderwaterA different world exists under the water<br />
Many people will pass their entire life believing<br />
The opaque dark surface of a lake<br />
Hides a cold, empty barren planet beneath<br />
But I know better<br />
<br />
Underwater, gravity seems to shift<br />
Instead of falling quickly and fighting to rise<br />
Even the hardest kicks aren't enough to propel one to the ground<br />
Down here<br />
And the surface calls, beckons, vacuums<br />
Humans always forced back to that interface<br />
After only mere moments allowed exploring<br />
<br />
For the wily ones who can stay under a little longer<br />
The passport to this new world unveils the strangest sights<br />
<br />
Schools of fishes - forty, fifty person classrooms<br />
Eye me warily from the side of their heads<br />
As they dart left, then right, then down, then back<br />
Moving as a single unit<br />
Away from this limb-ed, awkward intruder<br />
<br />
The sand of the lake bottom trickles wetly through pruned fingers<br />
Gurgles of oxygen and carbon dioxide,<br />
Trapped in snow globe bubbles<br />
Escape blue-tinged lips and race to the surface<br />
To explode in a panicked burst<br />
<br />
Tiny creatures, no bigger than the head of a pin<br />
With transparent bodies, and huge black eyes<br />
Rise passively through the water column, looking at me<br />
They are mixed with even smaller beings, unidentifiable particles<br />
That illuminate like dust floating through the living room air in the afternoon sun<br />
Only to be extinguished again as they pass out of the beam of light<br />
That has penetrated the water's surface<br />
<br />
The orange feet of a family of ducks sends ripples along the lake's glass tabletop<br />
Webbed toes kicking effortlessly to propel plump feathered bodies away<br />
The biggest feet lead the brigade of many pairs of smaller ones<br />
They quickly put distance between themselves, and me<br />
But I don't take offense<br />
<br />
Crayfish, leading with oversized claws<br />
Blend seamlessly with the sodden sand bottom<br />
They scurry forth, then disappear again into their surroundings<br />
Underwater chameleons<br />
<br />
Tall leafy plants stretch their long necks<br />
Reaching and climbing, battling toward the sun<br />
Their slimy hands grab at my bare legs, asking for help to the top<br />
While I wonder instead how far I can swim down<br />
<br />
A splash of a heavy body with a heavier shell<br />
Over in that weedy bay<br />
Reminds me of the snapping turtle whose head rises above the water from time to time<br />
Interested in a variety of prey found in the shallows<br />
Including human toes? Only he knows<br />
<br />
Reluctantly I kick, rising up, up<br />
The water warming with my ascent<br />
I gulp sweet summer air and squint into the sun<br />
While my legs and feet continue the dance in that other world<br />
Not ready yet to say goodbyeKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-66677327648472164152016-03-01T11:05:00.004-08:002016-03-01T11:10:27.044-08:00Nature Close to HomeThe early morning sun sizzles orange <br />
Rays flicker across sleeping faces<br />
Roused by light, warmth and anticipation<br />
It’s time to begin my journey: nature, close to home<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Five summers of travel - by air, by car, by boat<br />
To see the furthest reaches of beautiful Ontario<br />
Superior lakes, soaring white pelicans, shimmering alvars<br />
Shade-filled boreal forests, winding rivers, the tropics of Pelee Island...<br />
I have been there. I have done that. I am perhaps the luckiest biologist of all time.<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
But neglected, uncharted, unloved lies my lovely home: Guelph.<br />
It’s time to explore<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Standing on the edge of downtown at the Eramosa River,<br />
A spot I pass every week but never linger at<br />
A line of canoes are paddled out like baby ducks<br />
I step into the river eagerly<br />
And cool water swirls between my toes<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Within moments we are transported to the depths of nature <br />
A thick swath of trees separates the river from Guelph’s downtown<br />
For all I can tell those trees are a mile deep - we are far from civilization and immersed in the wilderness<br />
Steps away from home<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
A tall heron warily eyes our approach as our paddles slice through the water towards him One giant leg takes one elegant step, then the other<br />
Then with a swish of massive wings<br />
He is gone<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
A painted turtle stretches his river-cooled limbs across a sun-warmed log and tilts his face to the sun You can practically see his smile<br />
We approach cautiously and he lets us delight in his striped legs, patterned shell and relaxed outlook on life<br />
I turn my own face to the sun, warming my jet-lagged soul<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
A buzzing rattle ensues <br />
Above me a cloud of kingfishers are singing a song that sounds of electricity<br />
Their mohawked heads match their carefree flight<br />
And I swear one cocks an eyebrow at me<br />
Saying: “this is what you’ve been missing here”<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Exploration continues: by canoe, on foot, on bike <br />
Revealing my home’s hidden jewels<br />
One by one<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Bike tires swerve deftly on a gravelled path <br />
Surrounded by the waving, reaching grasses and glowing flowers of a seemingly endless meadow<br />
A garter snake wiggles gracefully away<br />
And disappears into the outstretched arms of green<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
My feet crunch along sun-dried grass, crispy with the long day’s heat <br />
A fog rises above a stormwater pond whose waters ripple in the evening wind<br />
Families of geese co-parent along the shores<br />
“Flood control turned habitat, eh?” a bullfrog burps at me<br />
A green frog plucks a banjo string in agreement<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Our canoe glides noiselessly down the Grand River as we stop paddling to watch a deer <br />
Cooling down on a hot day with a sip from the river<br />
Surprised by our presence, she watches, frozen and wide-eyed as we slide by<br />
Both of us locked in a staring contest; me wearing a grin the size of her white tail<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Mallard ducklings caught close to the boat’s bow <br />
Protest as only baby ducklings can<br />
With a barely audible “mah mah mah”<br />
Their mom ushers them to safety, casting a sidelong glance as delighted paddlers watch on<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Humongous fish flop and flail at the waters’ surface A flurry of fins and tails<br />
They stop and sink quietly below the surface as we pass by<br />
I peer into the dark depths of the river after them<br />
But see only my reflection instead<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Only now the eyes in the reflection look a little wiser <br />
Seeming to say: <em>Do you get it now, Kristyn?</em><br />
<em>You can travel far and wide. You can “see it all”</em><br />
<em>But nature always has, and always will be</em><br />
<em>Just outside your door</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: x-small;">**This poem was originally a submission to NCC's July 2012 Time for Nature project; as such rights for this poem belong to the Nature Conservancy of Canada</span></em>Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-21886102073957670932016-02-21T19:10:00.001-08:002016-02-21T19:10:07.428-08:00East Coast Road TripIn Quebec City we wandered cobbled streets<br />Admired centuries of history,<br />Fumbled our French,<br />And picnicked on fromage and baguette while the Vinyl Café played on the radio<br /><br />In New Brunswick we hopped into inner tubes<br />And strapped tightly to one another<br />We cracked a cold beer as our feet dangled in the cold river<br />And floated peacefully down the Miramichi<br />I crashed into the trees hanging over the riverbank at one point<br />And we laughed<br /><br />On the south shore of New Brunswick we walked on the ocean floor<br />The tide was out, the tourists were in<br />And the Hopewell Rocks were as towering and majestic as anything had ever been<br />Cinched at the waist, busty ladies in corsets<div>
Gathered together, 100 feet over the rest of us, looking down<br />Eroded by the endless ocean<br />Hugged by bubble wrap seaweed, floating and clinging, then squinting against the bright sun<br />Until the tide returned<br /><br />We ate salmon in Miramichi<br />Lobster in Shediac (Acadian style, of course!)...then in PEI...then Nova Scotia....then Maine... </div>
<div>
I named the vacation "Lobstermoon"<br />We savoured Digby scallops on Digby neck – warmed on a toasted hot dog bun, and somehow the greatest meal I have ever tasted<br />Haddock in Halifax<br />Deep fried everything in Antigonish – the ocean floor in a fryer, then on our plates<br /><br />On PEI we clapped, sang and stomped at a ceilidh<br />Fiddlers fiddled, step dancers stepped, trumpets blared<br />Bald eagles flew overhead as if it were no big deal<br />Herons clustered together in flocks<br />Where were we!?<br /><br />Lighthouses, lighthouses, lighthouses<br />From gorgeous, to run down, to lonely, to majestic<br />From red, to white, to black<br />Beacons on every point<br />Everywhere<br />(Lighthousemoon?)<br /><br />Whale watching off Digby Neck<br />The humpback whale barrel roll<br />Fins of minkes all around<br />Brilliant sun: 1, pervasive fog: 0<br />Did I mention the scallop rolls?<br /><br />Touring the west coast and the Acadian villages<br />Blue, red, white flags, yellow star<br />Pride in history, unchanging for centuries<br />Views of the ocean, the bluest water I have ever seen<br />“...<i>I could live here</i>”<br /><br />Peggy’s Cove<br />Pink granite, indigo water, shining sky<br />Lighthouse perfection<br />Clambering on rocks, waves crashing all around<br />Feeling so unbelievably at home on the Georgian Bay of the east<br /><br />Halifax. Waterfront. Could have set up a shop and moved right onto the boardwalk, never leaving<br />Could have spent every night for the rest of my life listening to Signal Hill at the Lower Deck, while the good beer flowed<br />Could have stayed there and never left, I’m sure of it (NCC Atlantic, are you hiring? ;))<br /><br />Laying on a beach<br />Incredibly grateful to find this time to relax<br />The coldest, saltiest water on hot cheeks</div>
<div>
Nothing in the world more refreshing<br />The warm, reddish sand and the warmth of Jeff's hand in mine</div>
<div>
<br />Cape Breton<br />My history, my blood<br />The Cabot Trail and the most beautiful vistas in the world<br />Winding on a road up a mountain<br />While the sea opened up below<br />Climbing further and further<br />Green hills that stretch on forever<br />Fiddle music pulsing in my veins<br /><br />Time with Jeff<br />A commodity there just isn’t always enough of<br />Two weeks, 7,500 kms, 4 provinces, countless stops, always on the move<br />Feeling at home the entire time, because my home was right there, driving the car and smiling at me<br />A wonderful. Spectacular. Unforgettable. Exhausting. Brilliant two weeks.<br />Canada’s east coast - perfection<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>August 2013</i></div>
</div>
Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-46053764127759682272016-02-15T10:50:00.002-08:002016-02-15T11:42:21.048-08:00IcelandipationTravel bugs crawl down my arms<br />
Setting hands in motion<br />
Possessed, they turn endless pages of travel guides<br />
Fevered fingers touching picture after picture<br />
<br />
Of Iceland<br />
<br />
That majestic piece of land floating so tranquilly in the Atlantic<br />
Hovering just south of the Arctic Circle<br />
Where you can picture the enduring glow of the midnight sun<br />
Pulsing through summer nights<br />
<br />
That piece of Europe that occasionally EXPLODES<br />
With volcanic passion<br />
Shooting ash into the air, blotting out the night sun<br />
Confounding planes in Spain<br />
<br />
Next door to a towering aqua glacier<br />
A rolling meadow dotted with wildflowers<br />
Over here, a thundering waterfall pounding the black rock below<br />
Above it, an Arctic fox lapping water from a glacial river<br />
<br />
A hike through terrain covered in sound-dampening fog<br />
Ends at a cliff teeming and screaming with shorebirds<br />
Nesting on this northern edge of the world<br />
<br />
Steam hisses out of hot springs<br />
Mingled with the laughs of tourists delighting in nature's spa<br />
All asking the same incredulous question, though their wallets are empty:<br />
How did we miss this one?Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-42466013746132780182016-02-15T10:45:00.001-08:002016-02-15T11:45:17.678-08:00Freezing RainRain, it doesn't always pitter patter<br />
Or dust the skin of a passerby with mist-like<br />
morning dew<br />
It doesn't always fall softly, or vertically<br />
<br />
The army of droplets corrals<br />
Hears the pep talk from the clouds: "this is it! this is our chance!"<br />
Rain drops use the atmosphere's indecisive hovering<br />
Between the wintery minuses and spring-like pluses<br />
To launch its loudest attack<br />
<br />
Ice bullets, frozen swords, sleet-covered grenades<br />
Assault the noses of the unexpecting<br />
The fingers of the hands that desperately jiggle keys in locks<br />
Sideways attacks on windowpanes that crack loudly through the night<br />
And coat all surfaces in black, icy slick<br />
<br />
Then as quickly as it began<br />
The atmosphere yawns, stretches and shudders<br />
relaxes into sleep<br />
Changing the march of the temperature<br />
Up, up, into a gentle, pitter-pattering soft blanket of rain<br />
<br />
The world's iced candy coating melts away<br />
Oozes, slinking from windows<br />
Drips and dribbles from roadways<br />
Sliding quietly into nearby sewers or gently vibrating puddles<br />
<br />
Embarrassed by its loss of the battle<br />
But dreaming of its next chance to fightKristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7849546281776385420.post-44919310868143677712016-02-04T19:37:00.000-08:002016-02-15T11:48:19.866-08:00Barred Owl<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">In early spring the world hovers in
limbo</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Water drips and melts from tree
branches and towering drifts</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Drizzling into rivers, sneaking
across roadways,</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> filling lakes with the
cold, fresh promise of summer</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">But night skies are frozen, laced
with blank-faced stars</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">That give away nothing; no hint of
coming warmth</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br />
The earliest green faces have emerged from bare patches of sun-warmed earth</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Surprised by the lingering white
all around them</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Wondering if they've showed up
uncomfortably early to summer's party</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">
Wood frogs emerge in the glowing blue of evening light</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">They stumble sleepily onto the ice
of that thawing lake</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Tilt their heads back and sing to
the starry dusk:</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"Chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck!"</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Calling out for love into the
trickling quiet</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">From deep in the forest: a low bass thrum</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> the wings of a
ruffed grouse</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Time with my heart, which beats a
loud rhythm of anticipation</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">
I'm waiting for another</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Who breeds in this special
in-between</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Whose loud, clear voice can pierce this
tension</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of an atmosphere that lingers on
the knife edge of winter</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">But is tempted and wooed by spring</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br />
The snow beneath me,</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>melted then frozen, thawed then stalled,</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Crunches and squeaks</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Until a sound stills my boots, and locks
me in place</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I become a mannequin in this night’s
display window</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">My head turns in slow motion to the
left,</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The cold, damp wind tickles my
cheek</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Was it? The call I've been waiting for? </i><br />
<i>The one that haunts my memory through the darkest days of winter?</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">
I hear it again. Closer now and to my right</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br />
From deep inside, almost reflexively,</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I call out into the darkness, my
breath forming an aura of hope</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">"Hoh-ho-ho-ho! Hoh-ho-ho-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(I didn't realize there was a bird living in my belly)</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br />
Then in a moment of sheer magic, a dark body glides silently across the stars</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> The
frogs stop chucking</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> The
grouse’s wings fall still</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> The
drip of meltwater seems to cease</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"><br />
The only sound is the "click" of talons making contact with a tree
branch</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Which bounces once, deeply, under
the new weight</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">
Brown eyes illuminate, flash knowingly at me and suddenly</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"> the air between us is
alive with electricity</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The barred owl calls back to me</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">And this early spring night
explodes in fireworks</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>Kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04921815937080634171noreply@blogger.com1