Dreams coming true! Author and motivator Tal Gur has discovered Tao of Thoreau. He published this amazing review, and granted me an interview.
This is the kind of opportunity I have only dreamed of before, and now this dream has come true! It has motivated me to keep chasing my goals and aspirations. Thank you Tal!
Been a while since I did a TankaTuesday challenge. This one is to use the phrase “in the shadow of” with the task of creating contrasting imagery of real or metaphorical light and darkness.
In the shadow of of the sun, the moon waxes and wanes.
In the shadow of ambition, small achievements are lost to pride.
In the shadow of trees, shade provides cool shelter.
In the shadow of envy, what we have is lost to what we want.
In the shadow of loss, love's sad face is a mirror of what we miss.
In the shadow of the mountain, cool valleys grow by snow fed streams.
In the shadow of the moon, we remember that darkness is enlightened by stars.
The tankatuesday challenge this week is to write a tanka based on the words “humdrum” and “mindless” without using those words.
I always try to catch myself when I allow this miraculous existence to become dull. It’s easy to coast through life without appreciation. Today’s sunrise was another glorious reminder.
It's the sun again
Same old fireball rising
Boring miracle.
Wait! That's not like me at all
I crave its light and its heat.
There are five crows that hang out in our yard. I wanted them to be ravens, so I could pretend that Odin was guarding the yard. But the internet deflated this fantasy: they are indeed crows.
I really shouldn’t want more. They are GREAT crows. One day, I was sitting in the backyard, and they were perched in the trees along the property border. They began cawing, and then one took off, flew down steeply, banked around the power line pole, then accelerated back up to the starting branch.
This was cool, but then one by one they each did the same thing. The waiting crows cawed loudly, as if encouraging their mate. As they continued to fly around the pole, it was clear that they were playing. Not only that, it seemed like this was a type of drill, practicing maneuvers that would be useful in the wild.
Crows call a challenge
Leap, rise, stoop into a dive
Tilt, twist, bend their path
Beat down wings to rise again
Cawing cheers upon return
I return to this remarkable memory whenever I see them. I thought this would always be the high point, until last week. That’s when I saw one of the crows and a hawk together. Flying together.
The crow led, the hawk followed, beak almost to the crow’s tailfeathers. At first, I thought the hawk might be chasing the crow away, perhaps from a vulnerable nest. But as they flew, curving, diving, flying into tree shadow and reemerging, it became obvious that they were playing.
Thankfully Patty was there to witness this, or this would have been another of my partly believed strange animal stories.
The crow and the hawk
Fly aligned, dive together
United by flight
Transcending their barriers
Darting, flapping, rising, one.
The reality of these birds is so much better than my mythological fantasy. Still, I’d like to think Odin would be proud to have them in his real world.
This post is part of a poetry challenge at http://www.tankatuesday.com
…then I think
you’re married to the sky
the perfect marriage
each makes the other better
sky by framing you
earth by underlining sky
Not really feeling like spring today in Southern New England! Pretty good sized snowstorm passing through. But I liked the image that these kigo words gave me: Shallow Spring, bush warblers and returning cold.
I tried to work today’s weather in, but it couldn’t happen. The image I chose is one that I have been noticing for several weeks: flocks of small birds in bushes by the trail. They’re a fun and refreshing sight.
Shallow Spring invites
bush warblers; returning cold
can't diminish songs.
Thanks as always to #tankatuesday
I love a challenge but this one was initially daunting. At tankatuesday, we were given a mission to write a bussokusekika, a Japanese form that is generally found at a specific Buddhist temple. It was challenging enough to write 3 verses with a 575777 syllable count, but I also wanted to honor its spiritual roots.
Luckily I had just taken a hike that provided an perfect image. Nature being a place of great spirit, I thought that this was fitting.
I stop on the path
That ice has taken over
A giant puddle
That stretches into the woods
And covers the trail forward
Ahead thin ice blocks the way
These woods are our home.
The right of the path slopes up
Boundary to ice
Water cannot puddle there.
I gaze through tangled branches
I look for a way through trees
Anna cracks through ice
She shakes a wet paw and turns
Following my steps
I find a path through branches
A way through brush sticks and stones
A soft trail through leaves and loam.
The #tankatuesday challenge this week is to write 3 Kimo poems, which have 10/7/6 syllables. Kimo is an Israeli version of the Haiku. The Kigo phrases we were tasked to use are “buying a new calendar”, “winter desolation”, and “trimming the Christmas tree”.
Buying a new calendar wondering
If measuring time causes
Me to lose sight of life.
Frostscapes, snowscapes, beaten down winter paths.
My winter playground, someone's
Winter desolation
Kicking the doorjamb knocks snow off my boots
I bring holly branches for
Trimming the Christmas tree
This poem shows a couple of my thought processes/ philosophies. I do often wonder how measured time puts artificial boundaries on my life. It is hard to shake the conditioning of the hours, days, weeks, months and years. Especially since I work at a school, with the Pavlovian bells ringing each period. I have no idea how to escape this cycle, but I do wonder about the impact of it.
When I saw “Winter desolation” I immediately knew I would flip that on its head. I love winter, especially snowy ones. I enjoy skiing and snowshoeing, but honestly winter hikes are all I need. Me and Anna the dog on the trails, crisp air and unlimited vistas.
Here is a link to my new poetry book, Self of Steam
The cover of my poetry book Self of Steam is a picture I took at Great Pond State Forest. The pond was iced over, and the reflection of the forest was ghostly. I thought the picture evoked the title of the book, and the spirit of the poem that it is named after.
Click the cover to purchase my book from Amazon.
I call the tall tree in the upper center of the picture “Great Tree”. I came up with this name to reflect its location by Great Pond, but also because I believe it is the tallest tree in the forest. I like to stand underneath it, appreciating its thick bole and impressive height.
Anna and I went to see our friends today. The above video gives a sense of how towering Great Tree is.
This is Brain Rock. Another of my friends in the woods. I like to stop and visit with both of them. They remind me to slow down, clear my thoughts, and appreciate what is around me.
Fall leaves! I celebrate your splash of color Your delicate yellows Citrus orange Majestic red I honor you, Because your changing hue Is the glory Of leaves dying. I will not forget your verdant green Your spring and summer Wind dances Hushing and shushing together. The brief glimpse of your Light underside. And to those trees That have already shed their leaves? I donʼt blame you. Iʼm tired too.
Mark Bozeman 