Cosmic Mirror

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

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Sherry Grant from Auckland New Zealand,

a classical musician and poet, sent Ethel a poem about one of her drawings:

Sherry Grant’s poem:

To Your Melody


By Sherry Grant (Op.2786)
2021-11-22


Utter magic! Webs of colours you freely spin,
Bittersweet young passion, time left beguiled,
Hesitant tears rush, sensation penetrates skin,
Hopelessly tangled knot, hearts racing wild.
At the edge of a dream two unicorns meet,
Sigh after sigh, clearer the shape of ecstasy,
Each ascension a fresh fountain so sweet,
This heaven built for you and me, our intimacy.


©️ Sherry Grant, Auckland, 2021-11-22, Op.2786
Inspired by ‘To Music’ by Franz Adolf Friedrich von Schober (Germany, 1796 – 1882) and
Alexander Scriabin‘s ‘The Poem of Ecstasy’ (Le Poème de l’extase), Op. 54
©️ ‘Song of Ecstasy’ (pastel) by Ethel Mortenson Davis (USA)
https://fourwindowspress.com/2012/01/14/song-of-ecstacy

Ethel Mortenson Davis’s drawing that inspired the poem:

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Hope

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

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Elephant Track

By Ethel Mortenson Davis

Last night two men
slept close to an elephant trail,
hoping to see the herd.
In the morning
they discovered an elephant track
between their two sleeping bags.

We are the same.
We are part of them,
they, part of us.

This morning we ran
to catch a glimpse
of the last of October’s light
as she lit the tops of trees on fire,

and heard the voices of cranes,
high above our heads,
that we have heard 
a thousand times before.

But still, we were lifted.

A great river
drifts through us.
She glimpses us
to see if we have caught
the ripples she throws out.

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A Place Where we Live

Potawatomi State Park

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Figures

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

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The Place Where We Live, Rock Island

Photographs of Rock Island by Ethel Mortenson Davis

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There is Still Time

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

But there is still a sunrise this morning,
red for rain.
We can still count the stars in Orion
and see the night sky.
There is still a dog at the end of the bed.
He is a guardian of our souls.
There is time to reach beyond smallness
that resides in our hearts.

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Fawn

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Your spotted back fits well
in the dappled light of the wood 

as you wait utterly still
for the night and her returning.

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Come

a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

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