a photograph by Sophia Wood, our granddaughter who is off to college this year
Tag Archives: nature
Jays
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
We saw
jays
emaciated
from the drought,
crying in the desert.
I remember…
As little girls
we leaned close
to listen
to the tallest
of us
as she said,
“I know how the world will end…
Man will destroy himself.”
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Standing in a Field Wishing for Rain
a children’s poem by Thomas Davis
Like fat, old clowns with hilly pants
The clouds stride up the mountain sides
And foam their draughts of bright, white brew
And shout and dance with joyous cries.
I stand three hundred miles away
Upon a grainy yellow plain
And wonder what sweet airy sap
Will fetch clouds past the mountain range.
Although written a long time ago, in a year of terrible drought, this seems an appropriate poem for this drought stricken year.
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis
Red Mesa
a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
While Sonja, our daughter, and William, our grandson, visited in New Mexico, we went up a canyon not far from our house in Continental Divide. Both Sonja and Ethel took photos as we drove up the canyon, stopping at different times on the way. The light was perfect, resulting in some spectacular work by both photographers. Sonja and William, after this photo was taken, hiked to the red cliffs that rose above them in the sunlight.
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
Night Sky
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
The stars laugh and laugh,
laughing in an ocean of laughter,
moving-water laughter,
until the sky can hold no more
and joins in laughing
with black face and shining teeth.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Ancient Cliff Dwellings Near Ramah, New Mexico
a photograph by Sonja Bingen
This cliff dwelling is not far from the entrance of one of New Mexico’s most beautiful canyons not far from Ramah, New Mexico. It was occupied between 1200 to 1300 A.D. during the third Pueblo period.
Filed under Art, Photography
New Mexico
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Here
we breathe in sky
and out sky,
like the trees
that grow out of rocks,
breathing in sky and living.
He is our father,
the one who made us,
the one who takes
the sky sounds
of hummingbird wings
and gives them to us,
to be our hearts.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Rapids at Box Canyon Falls
a photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
Taken November 18, 2007 near Ouray, Colorado
Filed under Art, Photography
Absence
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
What else could
I do today?
What else but work the soil?
Work the soil
around the corn and beans,
the green squash.
The beans are vining,
feeling for the corn’s torso.
The corn is up
to my shoulders
and beginning to tassel out.
The afternoon clouds
have brought
a hard male rain
in the hottest
and driest year
we remember.
What else could we do
but work the soil?
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
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