Difficult Dawn

.
.
Just before
Dawning sun
Arrives
Exhaustion
Too weary
To rest
Too late
For sleep
Something
Akin to
Hunger calls
My skin
To carry
The weight
Of my flesh
Quivering
Into day
Reluctance
Makes more
Effort
Required
Trembling
I watch
Dripping trees
Gain color
While busy
Birds call
Greetings
Singing
With their
Tasks I am
Burdened
With fear
Least I
Falter
My body
Unreliable
Does shame
Or love
Compel
Strength
Does my own
Pain matter
When there
Is work
To be done
Every moment
I must
Evaluate
How to
Do what
Needs doing
Without
Endangering
Others
What can be
Omitted
Easier to
Be alone

Selfishly
I pray
For myself
Please help
Me be cheerful
Today belongs
To my small
Granddaughter

The trees
The birds
Voice an answer
I am grateful
.
.
Bear … 04.14.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015

Mère de la Lumière And The Flight Of The Headless Bird .. Page 1

Mère de la Lumière And The Flight Of The Headless Bird .. Page 1
.
Bear … 04.11.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015
.
.
Held away from the
Awareness and memories
Of modern inhabitants in
Coinciding space were the
Eternal silvery cypress swamps
And mysterious black water,
Shinning as flowing rubies
In sunlight and as
Darker garnets in shadows,
At night coalescing
Into molten obsidian.
There were bottomless
Self cleansing sink holes
Perpetually reflecting
Shimmering moonlight,
And hidden limestone
Cenotes of pure water,
Blue subterranean rivers,
Pristine sandy bottomed
Creeks flowing with
Life and grace and beauty,
And ancient, sweet scented,
Flowering trees, bountiful
With seeds and fruits and nuts.
.
Here there also lived
A being manifest as
A glowing woman.
Her wondrous home
Was bordered by
Sunsets and beaches
Along glory filled seas.
Endless forests of
Singing Pines held aloft
Orchestras of stars,
Accompanied by soft
Undertone chanting
Of rustling palmettos.
Long lived guardians,
The Hardwoods of Remembrance
Whispered of truth sleeping
Cradled in living branches
While standing sentinel
Through evolving eons.
.
Mère de la Lumière
Had been born from
A starburst,
As Mother to her own
Grandmother, she was
Her own Mother’s Mother,
Her childhood became
The only repository of
Legend and history.
Magical transposition
Created a portal
To the self-forming
Genetic labyrinth
Of lost experiences
And unknowable memories.
Mère de la Lumière
Was named simultaneously
With her own self birth.
.
To be continued …
.
.
.
.
.
.

Gift For The Grandchildren

.
.
Straight edge
Coastal marshes
Steaming soup
Cooking garbage
Composted history
Gyres going nowhere
Dead currents stop
Lacking courage
Oceans becoming
Unchartable
Spinning magnets
Navigate
Heavy darkness
Water mountains
Wash over
Alkali flats
World pirouette
Wobbles turning
Around and back
Wishfully sleeping
Methane dreams
Before the sky
Collapsed
And the burning
Sun still rose
.
.
Bear … 03.28.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015
.
.

Sky Dance Solo

.
Danseur ballet
Effacée tours en l’air croisé
Sky dancing alone
.
.
Bear … 03.24.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015

This bird did all of that, starting in effacée, the 360 in the air, crossed wings  … amazing.

Sky-Dance ⓒBearspawprint2015 3-16-2015

Sky-Dance ⓒBearspawprint2015 3-16-2015

.
.

BEWARE —warning about TICKS

.
.
Danger on new leaves
Rimmed with first molting of ticks
Vectors of illness
.
.
Bear … 03 21.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015

The first molting of ticks is even smaller than the seed ticks. They tend to be found along the edges of game paths or in high grasses and brush. In appearance they look like a soft edge of tan or light brown along the outer edge of a leaf or grass stalk or just a stick that protrudes where warm blooded animals, including people, birds, squirrels, deer, dogs, cats, etc., will brush against them.

I have had all different molting fall out of trees onto me, even into my coffee cup sitting at a picnic. And sometimes they jump, just appearing where they could not be without jumping several feet. They can be, and are, anywhere that warm blooded animals are or have been.

Motionless, waiting to ambush they look like nothing more than a film or rim dust or pollen. Under magnification they more resemble a mite than the adult ticks in most illustrations. BEWARE. These tiny vectors bite and carry disease, just as the adults do.

If it is possible that these practically invisible arachnids might be on your clothing, disrobe in a tub so that they are contained and not disbursed. Check children carefully. The nasty little critters especially like to get in armpits, under elastic (such as in waistbands), and tight clothing, on small boy’s testicles, and under skin folds in older people.

There are many varieties of ticks, and they are all over the world. It is my personal opinion that as wild-life habitat diminishes, and more animals are domesticated; ticks, and other potential vectors, are forced into contact with encroaching domestic animals and people. They don’t prey on us, as a preference, but we fit the habits of prey, and we are warm blooded.