let us slumber

let us slumber

let us slumber in the moonlight of our mind

where feathers drift with honeyed dreams in the quiver of breath before a dawn

then sail upon what it is we may find

let us slumber in the brewing of loons

beneath camomile leaves and northern winds crawling

let us make our own cocoon


let us slumber in twilight’s cloak

in essence of birds in flight

ne’er weary of our path

straddling the sway of our yoke


let us slumber in crescent moon

where love bathes softly

breathing swiftly more

in a summer heat where we forever swoon

listen to me read let us slumber

deep in my earth

deep in my earth

deep in my earth your words survive

there beneath

the ageless,

the night,

the moon’s silkened eyes

deep in my earth your words oh how they stroke

a palace of blues,

of grays,

of an artist reborn

as a lover awoke

deep in my earth your words ebb and flow

with the traveler,

the siren

that wanders within and along

our glass spun chateau

Fire in the Water – Feint

honeydew

honeydew

last bites of summer

in a honeydew bed

as drips of venus

and autumn leaves

wed

It is the power of our senses that offer such inspiration to the creative within us and my taste buds often rise to treat me with such.

Honeydew, to me, tastes and feels like summer. I’m easily transported on a rainy day to the sunny shores of a lakeside getaway.

No matter the season, no matter the day, our senses have the power to take us away, to a memory we cherish or perhaps to where our imagination comes out to play.

I captured this image at twilight along a local trail as the blooms seemed to be dancing with the last bits of sun.

mist

mist

as the mist of midnight’s steps

cradles the morning caress,

i awaken too,

with a lust for you

I captured this image in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Fairy Stone State Park. I giggled at first sight of the morning’s mist in its stream along the lake at the irony of the parks name. To me, this looked as if a group of fairies were passing through and left their magic behind.

The park, one of Virginia’s first, was opened in 1936, and received its name from the mysterious “fairy stones” found in the area.

The origin of the stones are that of a Christian and Pagan mythology, believed to be that of fairies tears upon hearing of the crucification of Christ. These staurolite crystals are only found in a few places around the world. Virginia, it seems, has the abundance of them while they can also be found in Georgia, New Mexico, Brazil and Switzerland.

Geologists describe their origin as a result of a shift and change in surrounding mountains over time. The dreamer and romantic in me prefers to believe the myths of the fairies and it seems I might have captured a little proof of them. What do you think?

ivory: a haiku

ivory: a haiku

frail is the hunger

morning rain caresses flesh

thunder breathes ivory

Wings – Niklas Aman

Captured this image during a hike in the fall and with no pun intended is memorable for me as I fell getting to it along the slippery rocks. The laughter commenced as thankfully I didn’t get hurt and a rest along the mossy stones was appreciated. Waterfalls are among the many wonders of nature that carry me to a different place and are a favorite of my camera to attempt to capture where the magic seems to flow in slow motion.

winter gown

winter gown

she dreams of serengeti
in the folds of her winter gown

where kings and queens cross winds in fertile bliss

parading in raffia robes and organic crown

she nests in the blue of its iris
as amber breath climbs the limbs of every tree,

her eyes rest upon the naked scars of the acacia

to her, a most treasured filigree

with cautious lips, she grazes the constellations
of its time

tracing the curve of its every year

each line fortelling of a resilience

of an unchained wildness to persevere

treading within its thrumming abyss 

the fragrance of time stands still

as she drinks of that it holds hidden

in slow doses it does reveal

as copper kisses the horizon

she falls into its lean
the roar of the forest then
claims the beast in she

she dreams of serengeti

in the folds of her winter gown

as the roar of the forest then

stirs eyes awake anext her waiting crown

Treading The Abyss - Mimi Page 

This piece came to me in a dream. I shared a bit of it on Twitter but wanted to expand it to the depth of how it unfolded in my dream. I don’t dream often, but when I do, I get magicial visions such as this. I’ve never visited Africa but I’ve watched countless documentaries as well as pictures that reveal the beautifully wild, unchained landscape that is the Serengeti. Perhaps this was a sign that one day I shall be given the opportunity to do so. Thank you for reading.