by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Wolf moon with yellow-green eyes, slipping between trees, slipping from heaven. Timber wolf with yellow-green eyes, slipping between trees, slipping between exploding bullets- heaven slipping between our fingers.
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Wolf moon with yellow-green eyes, slipping between trees, slipping from heaven. Timber wolf with yellow-green eyes, slipping between trees, slipping between exploding bullets- heaven slipping between our fingers.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Heaven
An astronaut that repaired
the Hubble spacecraft
said recently
that when he stepped out
on his first spacewalk
and saw the lighted
blue and white earth
underneath him,
he knew
he was looking
at heaven.
I wonder how
we would have thought
of the land, the animals,
and the people
if we would have known
our earth was heaven?
If this was all the heaven
there will ever be?
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, Poetry
by Thomas Davis
a children’s poem written when Sonja and Mary were young
After the stars were all hung out,
Some wet and some half dry,
Rain dripped down from heaven’s black
And cleaned the blue into the sky.
Then the laundry woman left
And let the stars grow dry and cold,
Shining, flapping in the sky,
Becoming stars instead of clothes.
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis