January 2022

growing out of the glow
not hiding, though in the corner
not invited, but attending all the same
reaching out to touch the sun

facing the alley
as the paint job might suggest
and yet still cheerful

still life with water
still water with fallen leaves
still life continues

multi-colored divisions
with nothing left to divide
I keep wondering what was
in this space and has now gone
what did these partitions separate?
was the floor really always that bare?
these remnants evoke mystery even as
they invite curiosity and speculation
I peer in at the windows, imagine
this liminal space to be static
even as it is ever changing
on its way to becoming
something brand new

holding space for what’s to come
beauty as promise of renewal
broken windows and all
look at what comes
from devotion
to filling a canvas
and sharing a vision
change is made manifest

an ancient beech on the bank of an ancient creek
every winter the same routine, every spring as well
over time a home for moss – how many hundreds
of squirrels have been fed – or thousands, even
and how many descendants have sprouted
forgotten by those self same squirrels…
roots that hold the soil fast each time
the water rises and the creek floods
a canopy of leaves each summer
shading the soil and cooling the air
thriving all the while and supporting
so many others – never earning a living
rather, belonging, and always giving gifts

without taking time to stop
I opened the shutter as I walked by
curious to see what effect my own motion
would have on the scene the sensor picked up
a funny angle I wouldn’t have chosen
emerged as the outcome
and brings more life into this scene
than other, more intentional, static images
I have recorded with close attention to details
sometimes letting go is a way of receiving

beauty emerging between broken windows
an invitation to admire, to appreciate
and even to respond in kind
in the same way the dead leaves
are as much an early harbinger of spring
as they are an indication of the onset of winter
so too these broken windows portend regeneration
and the mural work of Kimchi Juice becomes
the early crocuses blooming in the cold
assuring us that the cycle continues

the sign that signifies my beginning
the sign that marks the boundary
between civilization
and that which lies beneath
the place where my journey begins

empty inside beneath a layer
of obscurity and vague translucence
work goes on deep into the night
all that filled the space is gone
only the walls and fixtures remain
and those will be painted over
and replaced or repurposed
a new shape is emerging
and only time will tell
what it will become