Tag Archives: poetry

Some Advice for Clearing Brush | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Some Advice for Clearing Brush by Jeff Coomer

Walk noisily to declare your presence.

The rabbits and deer will leave

as soon as they hear you coming,

but the snakes need time

to process your intentions.

Take a moment to be certain

of what you’re cutting.

Many stems look alike

down close to the ground,

especially when they’re young.

Look up occasionally.

Source: The Writer’s Almanac for October 5, 2017 | Some Advice for Clearing Brush | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor

Monday, March 6

The Sun Breaking Thru On A Cloudy Morning Coffee Muses

The Sun Breaking Thru On A Cloudy Morning Coffee Muses

And then, a rain shower passing, sun shining…

Vulture courses on the wind, following unseen currents through the air…

Cardinals sit on pulpits of high green, passing judgement on the world with a song…

A congregation of Jays feathered in blue sky, answering with a chorus of calls…

Morning rituals in a life where nature is the cathedral, doors never closed…

The organ sounds supplied courtesy of BNSF, air horn blowing the crossings bye and bye…

The thunder of steel on steel, first rising then falling as if a storm is rushing past….

The pulpit and the congregation quiet, waiting… waiting, then all at once everyone voices their prayers…

Quiet falls, giving rise to a noisesome sound, clouds close in, a bird of metal arrows over, a distant roar…

Rivers of air move trees here and there, currents churning hither and yon…

The soft sounds of woodwinds, wind sighing thru the pines, rustling oaks, bending grasses… The sounds of March…

Wal-Mart gulls winging over, tracing their path thru troublesome air, from parking lot to parking lot… eating the leavings of mickey dees meal sacks…

My coffee muses have now bottomed out, not even the dregs left in the bottom of the cup… but memories are called fourth…

Long ago, far away from where I sit, I would’ve been sipping from a white saucer as my Grandparents and I saucer and blowed our way thru scalding cups of instant…

Morning and afternoon, rituals of coming together, shared with family, shared with neighbors… rural rituals, sweets and coffee, shared at a kitchen table, shared in a living room by a fire…

I, the youngster, sharing in rituals two…three generations removed from the now of my life then… friendly people, strangers becoming family, all gone now…

Memories remain…

Wednesday, January 25

Overcast Skies and Unseasonably Warm Coffee Muses

Overcast Skies and Unseasonably Warm Coffee Muses.

The world around me is still and quite. Even the morning birds are subdued. The air is filled with a sense of waiting… Change is about. Trees dressed for a winter’s party that winter refuses to attend. Spring keeps dancing in winter’s absence. Grasses blush green in the sun’s embrace. Daffodils nod shyly on the fringes in the breeze’s arms. Butterflies swirling, twirling in the sunlight filtering thru clouds… Winter still comes… Tomorrow.

Musing In On A Sunday Morning – The Videos

This morning I spent some time with some friends, old and new, via YouTube…
First it was my buddy, Fred First‘s Slideshow presentation of the images in his second book as I sipped my first cup of coffee…It went like this…

What We Hold in Our Hands: images from the book

I had been privileged to see this before when Fred was working on it…But today it was a perfect start to a contemplative Sunday Morning.

Next up I came upon a TED presentation given by Natalie Merchant…To say I was blown away is an understatement…Take the time and watch…listen…live this presentation.

Natalie Merchant sings old poems to life

Now that my coffee cup has grown cold with snippets of Natalie Merchant’s music playing in the background I guess it’s time to put the post to bed and get on with my morning…Enjoy what looks to be a gorgeous spring day and I’ll catch ya’ll later…