Not long before our son, Kevin Davis, Alazanto, died of cancer, he traveled to Paris and did several photographs of the city. This is his photograph of Notre Dame, a memory after today’s fire. A double kind of memory for Ethel and I. He was an extraordinary web designer, photographer, artist, and poet. The burning of Notre Dame creates a hole in the spirit of our humanity.
Filed under Art, Photography, Uncategorized
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Wind
She is the freest
of all women,
the wind.
The sound she plays
through the pinion trees
is a loud, sweeping sound,
like a great, spiny broom
cleaning away from the earth
things unnecessary.
Invisible,
yet she stirs the winter skies
to bring deep canyon snows today ̶
and then tomorrow
life-giving thunderstorms.
She makes us ask,
what is necessary?
What do we need
on our temporary trek
across the earth? Our suitcase in hand?
What is it we really want?
Only life from the wind.
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
poem and photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Stopped
to look
at the Byzantine light
coming out of the morning sky ̶
goldleaf
burnishing the edges,
turning the deep mountains
violet.
Take my hand
before we become
common!
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, poems, Poetry
photo by Ethel Mortenson Davis from where we stayed during our New Mexico trip.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
Ethel Mortenson Davis’s drawing is the perfect artwork for the cover of the epic:
