Poet. Writer. Photographer.
White sand,
like freshly fallen snow
but silky and warm
between my toes,
with the tracks
of footprints
of those with wings
and treasure-like,
mermaid-like,
secret offerings
crossing paths,
the prints,
the seabirds
on the shore
in the panoply of colors
of the setting sun
and with them,
my imagination soars.
I am filled with wonder,
with romance,
with tranquility.
With humbleness,
I shrink
and bask in the awe
of God’s majesty.
All images unedited and taken yesterday
I will never tire of
morning birdsong,
the daily rising of the sun,
the ways the rays
beam between trees,
the clouds that form
in such artistry,
the freedom flaunted in wildflowers,
all the colors of twilight hours,
the breezes that rouse my desires,
the stars that kindle my dreams afire,
for as long as I am alive,
I will never tire
of these natural delights,
never tire
even when the seasons fade away,
for a spirit saturated in the natural
never decays.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
The winds arrive
and excite the waves,
even the green
line up about the bay,
my car detours
the same way,
all of us drawn to bid farewell
in reverence
to the last light of day,
casting down
in glorious display,
the awe
once ingrained
can never be
washed away,
to witness
the heavens
on an otherwise ordinary
Saturday.
The grasses seem to try to grasp
the sacred flame as it descends,
as if before bed to hug and kiss it,
or beg for themselves to be orange-painted.
The clouds huddle
and combine their potential
to honor in color
and escort the sun out
as if it were royal,
but royal is of the flesh and blood,
created, too, from the Ultimate Artist’s brush.
All images taken 2/1/20 @LauraDenise
Soundless snowflakes,
silent night,
white star lights
faintly decorate
the sky,
and I
keep my eyes
and heart open wide,
close my mind,
still time…
Every night
painted fresh
by the brush
of His breath,
O holy night
granted to
the blessed witness…
I look up,
and my center calms,
spirits lift
and join the souls
dancing in this
silent night,
this blissful
ignorance
of the mysteries
beyond all this…
Peace descends
from the heavens
as the sun slowly stirs,
and I let it seep in,
wrap myself with the world–
this creation,
all that lives,
ancestors unmet,
the simplest pleasure
in the message
of an owl’s silhouette;
when all is still,
the awe fills,
and I feel
stuffed with blessings,
my spirit
rises
and with the birds,
pays homage,
sings,
and when I close my eyes,
I see it all–
beauty, purpose, gifts–
and my heart
unloads,
lifts.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
Sunlight beaming like a beacon
through the trees
has always drawn me in,
called to me
in a way that seems
personal, heavenly signals
meant to distract
me from my mind’s wayward bustle,
and I fall still
inside
while my legs keep propelling me back toward
my temporary dwelling,
but those beacons
do not cast shadows upon
my appreciation of the way
the rising light climbs up the treetops,
golden-washing creation,
the branches and beings,
each day baptized, bathed
in holy rays that seep
into the leaves and
me.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
11/07/19 0703
We want a sign
sent specifically to us
to tell us which way
to go,
we want to feel
lightning-like bolts
in a soulmate so
we know,
we want to see
with our own eyes
that there is a god
and more to this life,
yet we do not look,
we stay indoors,
fixated on windowless screens
behind closed doors,
and all the proof
to fulfill our wishes
comes and goes
without witness…
Despite what the markers say,
these trails have no end,
for we only reside in a portion of the middle
of the Maker’s creation.
This tease of greater things
is meant to last us,
sustain us,
with enough awe
to make all believers,
our time so short yet long
enough to discover
what this part of the journey is for:
to revel
in the natural wonders
and each other,
for every day
the beauty surrounds us.
We are cloaked and dripping
with blessings
and the potential of
love.
This mountain trail has no end,
the silence on the way up
prepares me for the summit’s message
prepared especially for me.
I proceed leisurely
but attune
to the psalms whispered
between the trees.
These trails have no end
for when the footpath stops,
I will carry on,
carrying these moments
in my heart
until I return
again.
It calls,
the distant sound
of crashing waves.
It draws
us from our shells
and caves.
We come
and gather,
toes lining the shore,
migrating creatures
eager to release
the excess we’ve stored.
We submerge our bodies
into the saline solvent
hoping to emerge lighter
with washed-off problems.
We stand before the span
of the vast aquahorizon in awe,
the expanse of creation in relation
makes us again precious yet small.
The sea summons souls
in sincere benevolence,
offering pieces of secrets
and some peace for each of us.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
It is inevitable
that a sun must set,
must sink
out of view,
bringing darkness,
signaling that a day
is through.
So it is with the things
that come to pass,
regardless of our will
or grasp;
some things simply
get laid to rest.
But just because
a sun, a heart,
sinks doesn’t mean
there will be nothing
able to rise
from the perceived demise,
for life
continues on,
light and hope
will inevitably rise,
for the circle
of goodbyes-for-now
are inexplicably intertwined
with new hesitant hellos
in divine timelines unknown,
unable to be perceived
from such ignorant perspectives,
for we are all but glorious specks
confused in an organized cosmos.
We don’t see the significance
of the setting sun synchronized
with the rising moon,
for The One who created all of this
did so out of love,
making sure the darkness
never completely covers us.
The light is ever-present
even when we are absent.
There is always something rising
as something else sets.
Even if we fail at the time
to see it.
Trust in a loving, larger
picture.
Poem and (unedited) images ©LauraDenise
Laura Denise 