a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Tag Archives: nature
The Fisherman
a children’s poem by Thomas Davis
“I’m going fishing,” said the king.
“I’m going early in the morning.
I’m going with my counselors.
We’re all to go a fishing.
“I’ve hired a boy to bait the hook.
I’ve hired a lad to hold the pole.
I’ve paid a boy to slip the fish
From off the hook into the creel.
“I’m going fishing,” said the king.
“I’m going early in the morning.
I’m going with my counselors.
We’re all to go a fishing.”
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis
Memory
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
A memory
of rain
in a night
when
the wind filled
and spread the sky
a
rain
upon us
and
through us,
on sounds
little known
as feet
of deer,
a rain
falling
between us,
upon
two voices
almost heard
above
the wind.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Wolf
a photograph by Sonja Bingen
Taken at the Wild Spirit Wolf Sanctuary in Candy Kitchen, New Mexico on July 16, 2012.
Filed under Art, Photography
Swallow
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
All the holy books
of the world
could fit on the tip
of a swallow’s wing
as she dips and sways,
diving for flying
insects.
All the wisdom of mankind
could balance on her
unpretentious head
as she cares for
her young
under the eves
of our house,
eyes showing no deception,
fighting off the blackness
that sits all around her.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Bunny in the Garden
a photograph by Sonja Bingen
The bunny came to where the garden was being watered, trying to find something to eat in the drought.
Filed under Art, Photography
Evening in Continental Divide
a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
Geese
a children’s poem by Thomas Davis
The night is like a big black pot
That’s full of laughing stars.
The stars are twinkling, bright headlights
Of big, black motor cars.
I know, for out within the woods,
Bush-hiding from the sky,
I heard the far off beeping honks
Of cars within the sky!
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis
Dispossessed
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
She waits
at the automatic doors
of the Food Mart
knowing food
is close.
She has recently
given birth
and is swollen
with milk.
She makes eye contact
with every person
coming out of the doors,
but most don’t notice her.
One person says,
“Look at that dog.”
She finally leaves.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
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