Fallen

Fallen NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

I’ve lost connection

With over-tired roots

Fragile

With the passage of the elements

And time.

I’ve let go

To the shifting earth

And to the rocks

Repeatedly cracked open

By frost and sun.

And toppled to lie

Finally

Atop the ground.

Ready to go back

To that from which

I had

Become.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Trees

 

 

Frozen

cold AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

 

Inside the core of frozen

Lore

There beats a tender

Heart.

Beneath the glaciers of

Dearth

Unfurl forgotten

Paths.

Amidst the howling winds of

Cold

Whispers bid to

Start,

And feed the seed ‘neath Tundra’s

Soul

Awaiting summer’s

Part.

 

 

Note: just the other day, I watched parts of the movie “Frozen” (the first one) with a young child, in preparation for that child’s going to the movies with friends to see “Frozen 2.” Now I have an ear-worm and am yet to “let it go” … 😉

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS and JusJoJan challenges: Movie title

 

 

The Gazelle

Cheeky Deer AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

She has come to inspect

The tent

The snacks

The gear

The rest.

A gazelle

Wearing smiles

And she’ll stay

For a

While.

Entertainment

It seems

Can be found

On a whim.

 

 

 

For the Word of the Day Challenge: Gazelle

 

A Different Kind Of Home

A different kind of home

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

A moment

For the memory of

A different kind of home,

Where sun sparkles

On the water

And you feel your soul

Fold along the crease

Of rolling foam,

And where your spirit

Sings the song of places

It has long known

How to roam.

 

 

 

Portal To Tomorrow

B alarm trumpet SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

In the portal to

Tomorrow

Let the trumpets

Ring not

Alarm

And rush to

Harm,

But stop to the

Hubris

Of war.

In the portal for

Tomorrow

May those men

Who rashly

Spend

The life of

Others,

Know the call

Of trumpets

Often heralded

Only pain,

More gore.

Enough.

Enough.

No more.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Portal

 

 

Should We Poke?

audience1 SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Look at that thing

With the wings,

Can it fly

Or can it sing?

Should we poke it?

Better not.

Press the fence

That keeps out tots.

 

 

For the JusJoJan daily prompt

 

 

Oh, The Mistletoe

Mistletoe NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Oh, there’s the mistletoe,

The berries

Over green.

The holidays

In olden faiths

Remembered,

Veiled, still seen.

Oh, in the mistletoe,

The Druid,

Norse,

The Greek,

For strength of

Loins,

And sacrifice

For friendship, love

And peace.

Oh, in the mistletoe

A medicine

A kiss.

May it bring

Your heart

Only the best

Of all of

This.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Holidays

 

No Longer Cold

HolidayNYC NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

It had stared

Though the window

At the clothed

Indoor tree

Wrapped in tinsel

And glory,

Gifts at its feet,

Stars on its crown.

And it shivered,

Naked,

In the cold.

All leaves long gone.

“This tree is naked,”

A child stopped,

Compared,

Bemoaned.

“It is too cold.”

Not anymore, Child,

Not anymore.

 

 

Note: I took this photo earlier today in New York City, as I walked past this brownstone’s holiday decorations. This post is dedicated to all who are outside, looking in. May you be seen. May you be clothed. May you be known. May you no longer be cold.

 

Also, for the new Monday Window challenge

And an extra tag for Frank’s Tuesday Photo Challenge of: Holidays

 

 

Windows On Display

On display NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

His artwork,

Carefully crafted by

Little fingers

And a big

Heart,

Proudly on display

At the family’s

Living room,

Like any well deserving

Art.

 

Note: This is one of a series of creations by my nephew, who was about 7-8 years old when he crafted this and other lovely depictions in modeling clay 3D art.

 

For the Lens-Artists Challenge: on display

 

 

 

Common Good

fire AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

“What are you grateful for, Mama?” the girl asked, head bent over her slate.

“I’m grateful for fire,” the mother said.

“For fire?” the child paused, somewhat dismayed. Perhaps she thought she’d rise up to the top of gratitude instead. Perhaps because her foot, where an amber had landed and left a painful blister, was not particularly appreciative of flames. Perhaps because fire-related chores of breaking kindling and cleaning out the ashes needed doing before she could go out to play.

“Yes,” the woman smiled, one hand stirring the oats even as a foot rocked the cradle which held the girl’s new brother. “Because without fire there will be no breakfast, no tea, no warm bath. Without it there would be no hearth, no place to get out from the damp, nowhere to warm your hands. Without it there would be no pots, no pans, no knife, no shovel, no kettle, no cake, no bread.”

Speaking of the last, the woman rose to rake the coals and make room for the dutch oven before shoveling a heaping mound of glowing red atop the lid, so the sourdough loaf could bake. She could feel the girl’s eyes on her, reassessing what she’d been privileged to always take for granted. What the mother knew could not.

“It is the common that we often forget to be grateful for,” the mother added, her lilting voice directed at the infant, who’d began to fuss, as her words matched the pace of her resumed cradle rocking: “Air to breathe, water to drink, flour for bread, cloth and fleece, a garden and field, to grow our food in.

“And,” she tugged fondly on a ringlet by her daughter’s chin, “having the common things all tended to, gives us the comfort in which to appreciate the more obvious gifts we cherish … like you, and little David, and your Pa.”

“And Gwendoline,” the girl reminded, eyes flicking to the swaddled corn-doll that she liked to tend.

“And Gwendoline,” the mother grinned. She peeked at the letters on the child’s slate. “And children who do their chores, as you will need to as soon as your S and W here receive a bit of mend.”

 

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Common