poetry, prose, and photography
Looking at how we’re evolving culturally, and how humanity engages with itself, for good and for ill.
Most every day, a song echos in my mind as I wake. The universe often speaks to me in song.
This morning I woke to U2’s “40” and the line “how long, to sing this song?”
My heart troubled by the world’s rage soaked violence, by another bloody day. Will humanity expand out of it’s ego before the world’s burned into obliteration by hubris? Will I get to see that day? How long, my friends. How long?
in this time of rage
invective traded like cash
poetry’s my peace
Checked Twitter this morning. So much rage. I’m not sure there’s not anyone without veins bulging nor invective dripping from their lips, a poison so sweet, so deadly.
I’m glad I have this little garden on the internet, where I can delight in life and growth, not what’s been burned beyond recognition.
in this morning calm
do not rush; embrace the calm
near the feasting bees
Ah, the beauty of mornings. No one else awake, the sun rising, hidden by trees and clouds. A perfect Seattle morning…for me, at least.
While walking this evening for exercise and mental clarity, I came across these blossoms.
sunsets through the trees
gently, the birdsong ending
a heron in flight
though we sit indoors
birds’ harmonies reach my ear
spring has still arrived
The seasons care not for the concerns of humanity. Spring arrives no matter our preparedness, nor our desires. Life continues its motion.
I hope this finds you healthy and safe. How are you adapting to our new life?
a moment outdoors
springtime’s flowers greeting me
with social distance
stories of the past
yet I look to the future
I am far from done
Met a really cool guy today. A former Navy nuclear power program sailor, just like me. Though he is quite a bit younger.
Swapped stories of our respective experiences, which I enjoyed. Yet I often worry in those moments that I’ll become like the subject of Bruce Springsteen’s “Glory Days”, a relic, trapped in the past. Grave fate, for me, at least.
so many miles
weathered and worn by life
a cold biting wind
time’s motion
irresistible
spring
Two days until my job ends and I begin the next chapter of my life. Mixes sadness and excitement into a strange cocktail.
Carl Setzer: Word Shaper 