A mother and child
foraging for mushrooms and ferns
A hanging orchid
A mountain stream
flows crystal clear, and so cold
deer is shivering
Seven blackbirds perch
on a young sycamore tree
boy counts his fingers
Undeterred they rowed
The whole Atlantic Ocean
Off the wall they said
The sun descends to the ocean, says the girl
Not the moon? the brother says
The sun at the end of the day, the sister says
Am I mistaken then?
Is it better to be mistaken or confused? the boy says
The fisherman catches the fish.
The waves embraces
the descending moon
a fish dangles in the line
Yesterday I walked with my two grandchildren and their dog for two and a half hours. My granddaughter took the photo.
Length of Stay
There is no more boredom or uneven walk on the hiking trail
No more mere acorns and colored pebbles from the riverbed
A new day of catastrophe’s widening reach
Wearing a mask wherever one goes
Suspicion of catching the virus when traveling, talking with friends and strangers
Living in narrow corridors
A suffocating feeling, counting the hours
Waiting when the end come?
With fear of being left alone and contagious
Today I walk to the river
There is a pink breasted bird flying from one branch to another, from one tree to another tree
Tweeting and communicating in a high pitch bird talk
I see a fisherman attending to his line
The fish has not touched any of his baits
But living is not all about intensity and patience
Not all about uncertainties and business hours
Life is also about the every day simplicity: corn on the cob and opening an umbrella during the rain,
A good book, kind thoughts, and Beethoven
And kissing you goodnight.
You try to frame your beginnings and journey
Demolishing and picking up the ruins
Planting roots, building a ladder with vision of a summit,
A tapestry of new colors and threads
Then you see a swan rising from the waters
The white wings spreading wide as if without effort
The awe encompasses all you have learned
Simple, precise and complete
Forever transforming your soul.
Today, Saturday, I walked in the afternoon. It was cool 63 degrees. I brought my camera to take photos of the birds I see during my walk to the river. I know the blue heron and the red wing blackbird but I don’t know the other birds.
Books I am reading:
The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas merton
Mastering the Art of French Eating by Ann Mah
A Beautiful Question by Frank Wilczek
Saturday morning, crispy cool, I joined other Waterways Keepers volunteers and cleaned up the Riverside Park along Napa River.
I found these yellow wild flowers growing along the riverbank.
The days pass like rain falling between your fingers
You are unaware the mountain’s summit disappears, river dries up
You worry yourself about deadlines and profits
Perception narrows, words evaporate between us
The time passes the definitive, irreversible point
Your distraction is being too focused
Like a robot whose full devotion is to vacuum the living room.
At The River
The lines are cast
The fish are not biting
A fisherman wonders why
I don’t know
From a distance in the walking path
Two walkers are approaching
Ask them the question when they arrive.
The base of a tree is surrounded by stones
The other trees are not.
It’s winter even in a tiny vineyard
Meantime I’m walking back home
I’m thinking what I will have for lunch
Will xfinity know?