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Walk with me OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

Walk with me

Into nature

Where the fresh air

Flows through.

 

Walk with me

As we shelter

Under skies

Me, and you.

 

Walk with me

Hand in hand

Muddy boots

Flowers, too.

 

Let us breathe

And connect

With everything

That is true.

 

 

For the Tuesday photo challenge: Connect

 

 

 

Perfect

spring SueVincent

Photo: Sue Vincent

 

Finally, the light was right, the water mirrored what it ought, the sky spread silk above her head. Even the dotted white of sheep lent the necessary movement to what might otherwise feel a specter of a time too soon or too late.

It was perfect.

Stella pressed the sole of one foot against the trunk and leaned into the tree behind her, balancing the rest of her weight on the other leg. All through her childhood, this preferred pose of hers had driven her mother to distraction.

Though long passed, the memory of a particular exchange about it was yet to fade.

“God gave you two feet to stand on. Use them!” Her mother had demanded.

Stella must have been six or seven years old then. “I am,” she had countered, exasperated with the constant admonitions of what felt to her a perfectly reasonable way to stand. “God also gave me a knee that bends. I’m using that, too.”

Her mother had made her “use her bending knees” to kneel on dried peas for most of that evening, punishment for using God’s name in impertinence. Apparently God also gave children the gift of parents they were not supposed to talk back to.

Stella had carried the bruises of that evening for weeks thereafter, and the ache for longer. She learned to keep quiet when reprimanded, and to adjust her posture and compose her face and straighten her back and never slouch or run or climb or get mud on her skirts or expose her legs. But she still found ways for small rebellions. And whenever she was out of her mother’s line of sight, Stella never did stop planting one sole against a tree or wall when standing. Not even when her brother, whose maleness allowed him liberties that would not be tolerated in a girl, gave her secret away by calling her “Stella Stork.”

And a kind of stork I indeed am, she thought to herself, and pressed her foot into the tree in a sigh of freed determination.

Midwifery did not quite pay the bills. Nor did her artistry through painting. However, between the two callings she had found a certain kind of balance. Granted, she often got paid for the former in apples and hens’ eggs, and while those filled her belly they did not translate into peat or cloth or rent. However, the commissioned illustrations for “Country Ladies” magazine did compensate in some coin, and she had recently been asked to provide a “pastoral series.”

Stella gazed at the scene, adjusted her easel, lifted her brush, and leaned further into the trunk behind her. The past receded. The future waited. The present moment lingered, perfect, as the hours rolled.

 

 

 

For Sue Vincent’s Write Photo

 

 

Take The Trail

sun shade path PhilipCoons

Photo: Philip Coons

 

Take the trail

Up the path

To where spring

Flows through minds,

And where fairies

Inspect

Those whose feet

Trail behind.

Listen on

To the leaves

Speaking tales

To the trees,

And to elves’

Rustling limbs

As they flit

In the breeze.

 

 

Dedicated with love to Dee, whose trail now flows wholly through realms beyond this physical one.

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Trail

 

 

 

A Delicate Dare

Delicate NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Their small heads

Rise proud

In mid-trail.

Delicate and fierce

They stretch their

Full miniature scale.

The risk they take

Of being

Stepped on,

Dwarfed by delicious

Access

To sun.

 

 

For the Lens-Artist Weekly Photo Challenge: Delicate

 

 

Fuzz Guard

 

Ducky AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

Listen up

Little fluff

There’ll be no mischief

And stuff.

Best make sure

That you stay

In the shallows,

If you don’t

Wish to meet

Claws as gallows.

There will be no

Dissent

Till wings let you

Ascend.

So since you are yet

To create

Actual feathers,

You will heed

Pond-time rules

By your elders.

 

 

For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Feathers

 

 

Preview Warmth

Preview Warmth NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Feel the midday

Glow expand

Sense the gently

Heated sand.

Dampened clothes,

Digging hands,

China they’re intent

To find.

Make the most

Of wonderland.

It previews warmth

So close behind.

 

 

 

For Terri’s Sunday Stills Challenge: Warmth

 

 

From The Other Side

April snow3 NaamaYehuda

April 2018 Snow. Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Last year’s snow

Gave way

To melted cold,

So blooming trees

 This Spring

Unfold

To leak

New life

To Winter’s old.

 

 

Note: This is the original unedited color photo, and represents the actual light and hues on the day the photo was taken.

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: From the side

 

 

Springing Time

Central Park early spring NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

They push up

Through cold ground

Where morning frost

Still abounds

And color

The park

So a new spring

Can spark.

 

 

(Not quite this year’s spring photo … yet – this one being from early spring in 2017 – but it nonetheless infuses hope for soon-to-be cousins of these blooms enlivening the park!)

For Terri’s Sunday Stills: Spring

 

Rock Gathering

Central Park Rocks SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Gather ’round the rocks

As daylight lingers

Onto land,

And sunlight’s fingers

Tickle children

In windowed shade

And sun.

 

Gather ’round the City’s park

To frolic

As Spring comes,

And as the promise

Of green growth

Comes closer

Dawn by dawn.

 

 

(While today is the Spring Equinox, the photo itself is more promise than reality … for the trees in Central Park are yet to bud and green, but soon they will … and so the photo holds a sight near to be seen …)

 

For Wits-Ends Weekly Photo Challenge: Gatherings

For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Shadows