Drops and Petals

Single drops of mindfulness,
nothing exists but the rain
in molecules suspended,
clinging to the present,
an amnesia of pain.

Reflections of the now
that surround as pieces
to the whole,
the tiniest spider
inside a flower
a single strand of silk
webbing hope.

The world does not stand still,
it simply dissolves;
even the blazing sunset
ensconces in a single leaf
fallen.

Sometimes peace
is too big of a thing
to be able to grasp onto,
and so nature scatters
daily treasures
for us to collect
as truths,

trinkets for lockets
to garnish hearts
with intended protection
when the showers
feel drowning
and the sunsets
remind too much
of losses.

There is simply beauty
in this moment
offered as solace:
hone your sight
to find and focus on
that instant of inner
silence.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

The Little Things

Something there is
in a soul’s composition
that personalizes light
from the connecting threads;

in the weave of mine,
part my art and part divine,
seems to be for the grandiose
some kind of rare blindness
in the mainstream sense,
for I only find it
in the minute and steeped in
mindfulness,

the larger picture
always blurred and muted,
unacceptably-by-society
dismissing sweeping views;

upon deaf eyes, the waterfalls,
for my soul only hones in on single drops,
the silhouette of an insect’s wings
even beyond the forefront flowering.

Too far away are the large and obvious;
I slip into the inconspicuous,
secret portals and nooks
that scan my soul
and recognize me in my
slow and scenic way home.

Don’t take me to the lookout point;
take me to the mountain where I can climb
to admire all the wonder along the trail.
The view at the top can never be the peak:
for me it can only be

in the little things.

You can hike with me
if you have the patience,
for a mile in nature
won’t get you fit,
but if you’d like to sit
awhile beside me,
I wouldn’t mind
the company,

but no attention would I be able to give you
when the sun sets on a solitary bee upon a pink bloom…

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

The Thread

silken single thread
nature’s web of life weaving
the dawns and seasons

Peace still exists:
it is in the stillness,
in the first soft light of
dawn’s shadow-displacement,

when the heavens descend
and dust creation
with a coat of gold
equally in every nation,

each new day, a gift
untainted,
like fresh snow’s
pure, printless blanket.

Peace is impervious
to extinction;
its persistent existence benignant
in perpetuum flourishing.

Peace needs not to be sought,
comes not in revelation;
it is in every detail
discreetly threading

this moment and the next
through seams that glisten.
Look closely for the evidence
that we are all connected.

Minuscule Magnificence

Mower engine stopped

at the sight of movement

in a patch of wild,

human stoops low

to observe

from a different perspective

for a while…

What intricate patterns and details!

What interesting coloring…

Magnificent minuscule creature,

you are quite lovely!

Hop along now!

Hop elsewhere to safety.

With lens and mind’s eye,

I’ve captured your beauty.

I think time has been frozen

during our rendezvous,

another mindful escape

through the portal of

a different view,

and to think I may have missed

the opportunity to be infused

with another dose of soulful bliss

on this gorgeous May afternoon…

American grasshopper ©LauraDenise

Laura’s Lenses

Flowers in the spring–

such an extra colorful blessing

among the natural offerings

gifted to us so freely.

Nothing in the natural

does a grateful heart miss,

fail to be moved by

with awe, always open

to be filled with the bliss,

and when the grateful heart

resides surrounded by the soul

of a poet,

every blade and petal

and note of birdsong

is impossible

to forget.

Add the sui generis lenses

of Spotted Iris and Canon

and the art collection

personally held

in the mind’s eye and heart

allows for instant access

to light and tranquility

even in the turbulence and

dark.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Wildflowers in the Light

minute details extraordinaire

captivate with their shape

patterns enticing the iris

whisper enchantment

lead the way

opening portals

to fairy worlds

offering wisdom pearls

when petals unfurl

glorious creation underfoot

under-appreciated

so often overlooked

mindfulness, lack of speed

photographer’s lens steady underneath

is granted access to the kingdom

not so secret

but gifted to those who simply

seek it

so much is lost

to height

get down and lost

in the wonder of

wildflowers in the light

About this photoshoot: Did you know I usually have the leash of a large, wild puppy in my other hand while photographing? Here are some photobombs by him (but also cute)…

My teenaged daughter is also a photographer (and has a MUCH better camera than me). I love to sneak pictures of her taking pictures, especially in that same golden light…

Here are the patches of weeds/wildflowers from a distance…

Rotations

Busyness buzzes about,

time whizzes by,

but only on

the outside,

for in me,

a peace counters,

hushing the frenzy,

now that my mind

is sounder.

The slow counter rotation

pushes back against the

second hands of time,

and I hover

above the current,

free from the waves

knocking me over.

I am not weightless.

My mind is full

but not of worries;

the colors of dreams

pour out about me,

and I surf on them

into the fluid horizon,

as Earth patiently waits

for me to return,

so it can continue

its rotation,

imperceptibe

in the daily commotion.

This Present

Yesterday, yesteryears

are taken away

with the setting sun;

to keep the beauty,

learn from mistakes,

release regrets

helps us move on.

The specialness of each

gifted present moment,

we miss

when we get hyper-focused

keep our gazes affixed,

keep treading, keep heading

into that unreachable West,

and before we know it,

time,

life,

love

have passed.

Let us wake

and lift our faces

to the light

and live

for today,

careful we don’t become blinded by the East, though,

for chasing the future

in sunrises

still takes us

away.

Disclaimer: If your present is unbearable, live for tomorrow, retreat to the past, wherever the warmest ember is, and for now, hold on to that… ❤

Feathered Silhouettes

feathered silhouettes
a gathering in the light
silent Sunday morn