Returning To The River

Returning to the river
cautiously 
for the first time since you drained it
from my happy memories. 

Unplanned,
but the sky beckoned,
so I translated it
as a loving nudging
from the heavens

that the timing
was personally pre-approved, selected, 
to make peace again
with my nature,
so dearly beloved.

This adventure
of my own, I began
and descended
down the road
beneath the bridge;

on the other side,
sandaled feet in sand,
it was a fallen tree
that first held me
so tenderly captive, 

as I slowly drew
my therapy weapon,
seizing the sun itself
in my aimed lenses,

creating the art,
selecting the perspectives,
as my subjects so selflessly lended
themselves to manipulations. 

Tri-colored trunks
and branches I braided
around a knot of light
to hold the center
of this soulful oasis.

Then, as if with x-ray vision,
or simply a gift to hear nature
in the language of revelation,

I saw the inner glow
of life after another death,
or maybe the asomatous mending
of a damaging past,

and, too, the beautiful reminder
that through the thick and barred,
and shadowed solids,

the rays and fires 
of hope and passion 
can always reach
those who desire them.

I have desired
but have not known how
to get back to my nature 
nor my self

since the impact
of the last explosion 
left too deep within 
the shrapnel
bereft of reparations.

In a window,
in the distance,
the legendary River Deer leaps
into the sunset,

and in its landing
after the eclipse,
a second sun is left
as both a back up and a

genesis.

The clouds in the river
pave alternative
paths for me,

and the bisolar rays
upon the Oracle Tree
leave an evanescent ember map
breathing…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Dandelion Canopies

You’ll find her beneath
the dandelion canopy, 
refueling her yellow,
feeding her sunny,
nectar for her sappy,
when the sun is setting,

the crazy nature girl
bending, squatting,
making magic
out of “nothing.” 
Witnesses stop asking
what she’s doing.

Make fun of her 
but don’t interrupt
the wildflower child 
when she’s crouched,
hair dangling down 
in the dirt,
as roots reach up
to genially greet her. 

Never mind her 
echo to the birds
or her silly grin 
as she whispers
to unseen
chimerical creatures.

You’ll find her beneath 
the dandelion canopy
filling her heart’s fancy
with macro memories. 

img_9363

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Bridges and Piers

Sunset-lit pier
fades from focus
as the miniature shell-bridge
draws me closer

and gets me thinking…

about what we extend
in our reach to connect, 
and what we retract
when we fear-react,

and all that’s gained
and lost from the taking
and passing of chance,
from the courage 
to not or to
act, 

and how far the distance
can be misjudged from perspective,
and in the grand scheme of things, 
how important it is,

and how often we miss 
and what we learn
when we look up
or bow our heads
to discern 

the difference. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Softening

Sometimes, I
prefer the blur,
the softness,
of out of focus,
where it all becomes
muted and fuses
with the natural horizon,
and even my femininity,
graceful and soft-spoken,
has a voice among the hushes,
my lyrics freed but the language
not audible or of this world,
for it is my soul who recognizes
this celestial light befalling before
the sun bids us adieu, never
resting, only sharing itself with
others too, as this speck of a
planet shifts, and upon
this ray, I lay this kiss
to be sweetly
delivered
to you.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise