An Olive Sunset

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An olive sunset/The first ever I’ve witnessed/feathered autumn hues

Finally, a haiku writing challenge!  Faithful readers are aware of my unfortunate/propensity for haiku/on odd occasions.

Haiku, it is been reported (by at least one chipper laboratory rat), is among poetic forms so powerful as to possess healing powers.

Here, in haiku form, are five sights for which I am thankful this week:

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His brethren flew off

One plump stalwart remained, perched

Magnificently

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Awaiting late flight

Driving rain, Boston traffic

Still magical light

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Coral twilight’s masts

Vertical, horizontal

Lines of land and sea

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Vivid horizon

 Afternoon sky mottled by

Clouds like shed snake skin 

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Curled against the cold

Beagle brothers share nap time

Lit by dazzling sun

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(Weekly Photo Challenge: Carefree) The Art of Basking in the Sun

I don’t know if domesticated animals sense they are missing something by virtue of their association with companion humans who persist in retrieving them when they venture too far from home.

But could any sentient beagle believe he would live a happier life in the wild than under my daughter’s care?  For them the technicality of freedom surely could not make their lives more carefree.

I also don’t know if wild animals are dispirited by captivity when they are in seemingly tender hands and gorgeous zoological facilities.   

It is hard for me to believe that the art of being carefree could be practiced any better than it is by animals–domestic or wild–basking and dozing in the summer sun, scampering into the sea, enfolding themselves among each other after a satisfying catered meal, reaching into winter’s white sunlight for a belly tickle, or snuggling peacefully at our sides as we sink into fitfully fevered sleep.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Companionable

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It is difficult to believe that Solitario Jorge did not lament his solitude until he was lost, although that may be a Shakespearean artifact of my inclination to anthropomorphism.

Do animals grieve the absence of their children, their mates, their companions?  I know our convivial beagles miss Jim, who would take them out running, where others only walk (or, like yours truly, are pulled forward and off her own feet by) them.  Because we’d never see them again if they were off-leash, perhaps running at that speed with Jim gave them the illusion of being untethered–of something like flight.   

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One can live alone, of course.  In America people seem to be doing so in unprecedented numbers.  But living alone does not mean living without companionship–the company of colleagues, friends, children, siblings,  parents, animals; of transporting works of literature, music and art.

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(And any Tennessee Williams fan knows one may even occasionally  find oneself in the company of and relying on the kindness of strangers. . . .even armed ones.)

Thinking of life’s companions inescapably brings me back to John Hiatt:

Red tail hawk shooting down the canyon
Put me on that wind he rides
I will be your true companion
When we reach the other side . . . .

 

 

 

(Weekly Photo Challenge: Kiss) Wordless Whispers



beccascooter

Can you capture a kiss, in a photograph or in words?

Oh, sure, a wedding kiss is among those which can be preserved on film.  The wordless whisper of a kiss can be memorialized on canvas.    Auguste Rodin carved an indelible ode to the romantic kiss.  But the sensation and mood and memory of a kiss may be as difficult to convey as is pain.

Our beagles begin every morning by stretching out to improbable lengths, their front paws flattened to the earth and their white-tipped tails wagging furiously from upright  haunches.  Their next task is to rush to open air and lift their quivering noses to take in whatever is upwind.

They pause and narrow their eyes, lifting their heads as if they are kissing the air. Continue reading “(Weekly Photo Challenge: Kiss) Wordless Whispers”

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