Last look

A late blooming rose set against the autumn color outside of my window. This view often has a negative impact on my productvity... causing severe bouts of daydreaming. I dread the time that the trees will be bare and the view will be boring and a little depressing. But that is something over which I have no control... the world keeps turning.

Autumnal Palette

Each autumn I am taken over by the color display put on by mother nature. Then, about midway (now) I start to feel as though I'm taking too many photos of leaves. I try to turn my attention to other, non-autumnal subjects but the color outside my window continues to hold my gaze. And later, during the non-autumn months, those images of gold, red and orange still please me as I flip through my galleries.

Another color also caught my eye today... possibly the last rose of summer. A pink rosebud stood out among the golden hues, against the blue sky. 

lipstick red

On our anniversary
There'll be someone else where you used to be
The world don't care and yet it clings to me
And the moon is gold and silvery

Who knows where the sidewalk ends
Well, the road will turn and the road will bend
They always say he marks the sparrow's fall
How can anyone believe it all?

Well, the band has stopped playing but we keep dancing
The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning
On his hand he wore the ring of another
And the world keeps turning, the world keeps turning

We broke the bank and we tore up the place
And we disappeared oh without a trace
Now the sun it falls into the sea
And around the only one for me

I was so green and the dress you wore was yellow
And the world keeps turning, the world keeps turning
The sun is down and the moon is in the meadow
And the world keeps turning, the world keeps turning

Put a hat on your head
Will you paint the whole damned town red with me?

Well, the band has stopped playing but we keep dancing
The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning
On his hand he wore the ring of another
The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning

The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning
The world keeps turning, the world keeps turning

Beloved

the rose's name is Beloved
today is my son's birthday and it seemed appropriate

he is an amazing man and a tremendous support to me
I tell him as often as possible that I love him

Roses climbing on a stone wall

Roses climbing on a stone wall
content in the sun
refreshed by the rain
on a Saturday morning in May.

Having discovered these blooms
shared their color and scent
I promise, I promise
I will not be sad today.

fading

We know nothing of this going away, that
shares nothing with us. We have no reason,
whether astonishment and love or hate,
to display Death, whom a fantastic mask

of tragic lament astonishingly disfigures.
Now the world is still full of roles which we play
as long as we make sure, that, like it or not,
Death plays, too, although he does not please us.

But when you left, a strip of reality broke
upon the stage through the very opening
through which you vanished: Green, true green,
true sunshine, true forest.

We continue our play. Picking up gestures
now and then, and anxiously reciting
that which was difficult to learn; but your far away,
removed out of our performance existence,

sometimes overcomes us, as an awareness
descending upon us of this very reality,
so that for a while we play Life
rapturously, not thinking of any applause.


Death Experience, Rainer Maria Rilke

it's late

Late to bloom this rose

It did not love in summer

Autumn filled its heart