photogaphs by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Montrose Sunset
Elk and Big Horn Sheep in a Field
A Stream in the San Juan Mountains
photogaphs by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Montrose Sunset
Elk and Big Horn Sheep in a Field
A Stream in the San Juan Mountains
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
To the Browns Twenty-five Mesa
He presented to us
a bag of brown beans.
The work of growing food
begins with irrigating the fields,
he said,
then planting seeds…
more irrigation
and finally harvesting.
It is holy work,
like teachers and the holy men do,
the growing of food.
It Is something sacred:
work and joy together.
Note: Linda Brown blogs at https://coloradofarmlife.com. Tom and I visited her and Terry, her husband, during our trip to Colorado.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized
I am headed to New Mexico and Navajo Technical University, but will drive past this spot in the San Juans on the weekend in order to visit my mother in the nursing home in Grand Junction. Kevin took a group of photos in the San Juans when visiting us when we lived in Continental Divide, NM. Ethel and I treasure all of his photos, of course, but I have a special place in my spirit for his Colorado photos.
Photograph by Kevin Davis, Alazanto, our son
Filed under Art, Photography
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
Filed under Art, Photography
by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son
Taken in the San Juan Mountains near Ouray, Colorado, November 18th, 2007.
Filed under Art, Photography
by Thomas Davis
We drove to Mesa Verde as the San Juan’s rose
in morning sunlight green, majestic, soaring.
I’ve met this girl, he said. He rubbed his nose
as if he had a pounding headache starting.
But I don’t know, he said. I feel like smiling
whenever thoughts about her make my day.
She’s with another guy she’s basically supporting.
He sighs. Sometimes I think she’ll walk my way,
but then she hesitates, he says. I sway
as if I’m in a storm that generates
emotions strong enough to make me flay
myself as who I am deteriorates.
Love isn’t what it really ought to be,
he said. The flower should accept the bee.
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis