A Fallen Blossom At Dawn

Another fallen blossom…
like the ones before
in years passed
I photographed
and told stories for.

Each of these moves me
in such profound ways;
what’s underfoot,
what others pass,
stops me in my tracks
with the silent beauty
so profoundly displayed.

For a lifetime, I feel
I could sit and contemplate,
reflect on all the lessons
and secrets it portrays…

This is how I know
I’m different, 
for off the beaten path,
tucked away,
alone in nature
is my happiest place. 

The soft morning light
haloing the fallen lady
bids me pay respect 
and paint legacy allegories.

Not as sad as the last one
I payed homage to, 
(but of course that is influenced 
by my inner untappable currents
and current surface mood,
no doubt, in turn, affected by
the recent tides and moon…)
this fallen beauty, still so poised,
fills me with bittersweet truths,

for we, the best things, this life itself…
all fleeting, all blossoms plucked by breezes
in the grand scheme of it all,
these hundred years if we are lucky
(but who’s to say that’s luck
when we know not
what’s next and beyond;
perhaps those taken early
were needed for something else,
angels only visiting
to help us with ourselves…)
nothing at all, 
a blink in time,
though insignificant
nor the center 
of the universe 
should we feel;
we are each dearly loved,
part of the same mother tree
unseen but a morph of every variety,
the keeper of every seed and leaf
releasing us one by one
into the world 
upon the breezes
in perfectly timed seasons
to root ourselves
until it’s our time
and we are called back again
like this beautiful blossom
having just detached.
I always wonder if it’s 
a leap of faith or
sacrifice or circumstance.

In any event, who could not
ponder the rest of their life
happening upon

a “fallen” blossom
at dawn. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Cobwebs Between Petals

Ninety-three million miles away,
yet upon the cobwebs of a flower,
Sol’s ray reaches, haloes, frames. 

How powerful
that gentle, golden beam is
when it finds and reminds us our

is more important and personal
than we think it to be,
for the Creator made sure
the cold and darkness 
would always have
returning light and heat.

We are turned away each evening,
in a rotation beyond our control,
perhaps to make possible
the continuous rebirthing
of new-day gratitude and hope,

to make possible these moments
that universally lift up our gazes,
to freeze-frame and coat in gold
these nuggets of humble
beauty appreciation, 

like cobwebs on a flower
that still me with revelation:
in the tapestry and labyrinth of life,
we are woven and connected
by hidden common thread,
and love could always,
then and now, 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Mountain and Sea


Few analogies have I found or invented that are better at representing the division of past and future than the classic mountain ridge.

Even from that perspective, though, perception of the future and bigger picture is limited. The immediate past comes into painfully-clear focus, but once we begin to descend into the future, that ridge blocks our view, and often, I suppose, that’s a good thing, for forward-looking is needed to safely traverse new territory and mindfulness is essential in fully appreciating the new surroundings. With more and more distance from that past comes the fading of memories. We must choose wisely which ones we hold fast to. The best seem the wisest to devote ourselves to preserving.

I suppose the same concept can be found at sea.

What safety there has always been in a shore, feet planted, whether bare in the soft, warm sand or focused on the rocks beneath the sole, land is steady, predictable terrain. The ocean may be a turbulent past we escaped from, near-drowning in bad choices and unfavorable circumstances, salt-water upon our faces. Losing sight of the shore is only half the scare, for who knows what lies beneath at those dark depths. Perhaps our past brought no waves of pain. Perhaps we are just trying to remember the best things drifting too far away from our memories. We desperately search for messages in bottles to touch, always out of reach.

But what if the sea is our future?

And we are missing out clinging to the shore, afraid of the adventure, the unknown. After all, 99.9% of the living space on Earth is out there. We are but one of a trillion species on this rock alone. From dust to dust, at peak development, we are still but a speck. We have already explored this less-than-one-percent. We are by nature, it seems, called to the sea from the shores. There is something out there. We feel it. Something more. Perhaps the dirt is indeed our past. Our gravity to this moment.

Perhaps, we should never take for granted nor forget. We are masterpieces of a loving creator. Upon an infinite canvas.

Prose and image ©LauraDenise