by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Where are you?
as silk butterflies
press themselves
into lilacs,
black ones
and bronzes too.
Where are you?
as cosmic storms
rage across the universe
throwing tides of uncertainty
into galaxies.
Where are you?
as I leave sweet-water
for hummingbirds
in a still,
parched land.
What will it matter?
Everything.
Nothing.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
a photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
Filed under Art, Photography
photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Larger than the rest,
a hummingbird came
to show me
how strong he’s become.
He sat on an almond branch
next to the sprinkler
taking a morning bath.
Two weeks ago
we saw
a baby hummingbird
barely clinging
to the feeder
while others pushed
him to the ground.
Now,
in the morning light,
he’s come to show me
he’s ready to make
the great journey
across the Continental Divide,
south
towards South America.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
a photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
Taken on November 1, 2008.
Filed under Art, Photography
fourwindowspress 