After the Snow Storm

a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis

IMG_0227

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Song of Ecstasy

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

She is the sort that hears the song
the hills make after a heavy rain —
a humming sound one hears
first through the finger tips,
then the ears.

She’s the sort that dances with antelope at dusk,
playing in the field until dawn.

She’s the sort that makes the insect song —
not bell, nor click, but a rhythm in-between:

like the sound the silver pieces
sewn on her dress and leggings make,
a sound like wind and bell
as she makes her grand entry
in a circle around the village —

head held high,
her hair flowing behind her,

tasting the song of pure ecstasy
like honey on the tongue.

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Cardinal

a pastel drawing by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Scan 2016-1-1 0002

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A New Year

by Thomas Davis

The old year hung behind a hill
that sang with birds and bears and animals
as numerous as water plummeting over black rock
to a canyon far below a granite cliff.

The new year, over the hill, was shrouded in fog,
whiteness obscuring dark shapes
that could almost be made out inside the hint of brightness
from a sun that could not be seen.

We walked into the mountains with our two dogs,
the old year on the hill behind us,
the new year over the hill in front of us,

and we listened to the singing of the old year hill
and wondered why we have to keep going on
into a fog that could hold miracles
or terrors
or a continuation of rich songs now behind us.

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Dawn

a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter

Screen Shot 2015-12-11 at 9.16.55 AM

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Earth

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

If only it would snow,
white covering red;
red now is everywhere
in this world.
 
If you go up into space
all that is made by man is gray;
gray is everywhere
in this world.
 
I want to put a ladder
further up
so that what I see
is the red-brown
of the earth,
 
the green of vegetation,
and the lovely blue of water,
shrouded by a white,
see-through shawl
around her shoulders
where there is no longer gray.

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Ready for Thanksgiving at Grandpa and Nana’s House

a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter

Capture

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