a photograph by Sonja Bingen
Between Gallup, New Mexico and Continental Divide is a place known as Red Rocks Park. Here red sandstone rises into blue skies spring, summer, winter, and fall, looking out at the land with the almost-not-moving patience of cliffs and earth.
Filed under Art, Photography
a photograph and poem by Ethel Mortenson Davis
There is a dance
the bee makes
when it has found food.
It dances in the hive
with all the other bees
looking on
until each one
understands the dance
and knows where to fly–
unlike the astronauts
who came around
from the dark side
of the moon
and saw (for the first time)
what the earth looked like,
new and bright
and more beautiful
than we could have imagined–
a blue-green jewel
shrouded in white clouds.
They wanted to tell us
the best thing
about going into space
was the earth itself.
They wanted to do
the dance for us,
but we could not
get the sense of it.
We could not imitate
the dance.
The Dance copyright © I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico, 2010.
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, Poetry
a photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
Taken on November 15, 2009
Filed under Art, Photography
a pastel and poem by Ethel Mortenson Davis
The Haida
The Haida left
the Northwest to come
to the Chicago Field Museum
to bring home their ancestors;
They were gone
for over one-hundred years,
stolen from a village
and put into drawers.
The Haida made button blankets
and round-cornered cedar boxes
painted in their rich
black and red symbols
in which they would place
their family remains
and bring them peace.
The Haida asked
the Chicago Field Museum
if they would also return
their family totems
and masks and other artifacts.
The Museum said,
“We’ll think about it.”
The Haida copyright © I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico, 2010.
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
a photo essay by Sonja Bingen
The winds of early spring sing windy songs
and young boy’s thoughts begin to long
for wings that lift his feet off ground to sky
and let his spirit start to fly.
He starts upon a hill, runs, lets legs stretch
as gentle winds begin to catch
the kite into its dance of buffeting
as paper, string, and tail go soaring
into a place where boys have always run
into the joy of springtime’s sun.
Filed under Art, Photography
a photography by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
Taken November 19, 2009
Filed under Art, Photography
a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
Photographs of Spring by Sonja Bingen, our daughter
April
a poem by Ethel Mortenson Davis
April on tossed hair,
in trees,
across the paths and grass
with branches stuck in seas of sky,
comes,
and
nowhere
is the snow
that covered us
and protected us,
but now
green
pushes up,
and
i
hold on
a moment like bark
and hear
a swinging down
out of trees
and
i see
your surprised
face
when
the earth jumps up fast to meet your legs.
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, Poetry
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