Category Archives: Photo poems

Little Gem

Posted on by Quote Reply
Lake Algae at Johnson Reservoir

Lake Algae at Johnson Reservoir: Photography

“The lesson which life repeats and constantly enforces is ‘look under foot’. You are always nearer the divine and the true sources of power than you think.”      John Burroughs

 

Blessed Toe

Posted on by Standard 3
beautifully cracked... like me...

beautifully cracked… like me… Photography by Noelle

Blessings to my broken toe. I’ll confess I was angry with you over the past week for interfering in my work out and yoga practice, not to mention hindering my shoe selection. But this morning you didn’t hurt so much so I decided to try some yoga. Because of you I had to go slower. Be more thoughtful and focused about each pose. I had to be kinder and gentler with myself and pay attention to little things. I had to think of which poses I could do and as a result, pulled out some poses I hadn’t done in ages, which totally charged my practice. So thank you, broken toe. I had no idea what a blessing you were.

Patience and Crawdaddies

Posted on by Standard Reply
Stained glass at Living Arts Center in Denver

Stained glass at Living Arts Center in Denver: Photography by Noelle

As a child I was quite the tomboy, catching bull frogs in the lake behind my house or craw daddies in the creek. I still listen to frogs on summer nights to determine where they are and to what mate they call. I’m especially fond of finding crawfish in the streams that I hike. Spring has been slow to come to Colorado and the creek is running fast, deep, ice cold and swollen with snow melt. Not very hospitable for a crawfish. Still, I look. Today, I was about to turn away after quite some time standing, when it’s tail caught my eye as it scurried across the creek bed beneath a rock. Life! Spring is here!

I meditate so that I may cultivate the quiet, the patience, the awareness and the love for this moment. Even the long waiting part. Even if there’d been no crustacean. Even with the red wing blackbirds that squawk like old Bolsheviks into my ear from the thicket for my intrusion. May you live a long life my mud-digging friend. You lit up my heart tonight.