Tag Archives: sky

In the Universe of Trees

a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter

universe-of-trees

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November 29, 2016 · 3:12 pm

The Composer

by Thomas Davis

An Italian, or Petrarchan, Sonnet

He searched a year to find the cedar tree,
Determined that he’d find a lofty lord
That towered dark and gleaming like a sword
Thrust upward with a shaggy filigree
Of branches singing winds into a sea
Of sky where hawks and eagles soared
And wings stitched sky to land, a linking poured
Into the heartbeat of his fantasy.

He dreamed the tree into the song he sang,
Then fingered ancient rosewood cello strings
Into the filigree of cedar wind
That bowed as cries of distant eagles rang
Into the sky and wove tree, song, and wings
Into a music that will never end.

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Tree at Sunset

by Alazanto, Kevin Michael Davis, our son

Tree at Sunset

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Guess the Building?

a photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son

Guess the Building

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Autumn Sky

a photograph by Sonja Bingen

Autumn Sky

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Prairie Walk

by Sonja Bingen

Prairie Walk

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Lake, Moss, Forest, Clouds, and Sky: A Reflection

a photograph by Sonja Bingen

Lake, Moss, Forest, Clouds, and Sky

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Winter of the Oaks

a photograph by Sonja Bingen

Winter of the Oaks

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Day

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

I shouldn’t have
come up over the bluff,
because that’s when
I saw the great expanse
of sky and clouds.

This morning, on my walk,
the face of the red mesa
looked cold,
and then
these extraordinary
fall clouds
beckoned me
to come up into them–

yes, taken up into
the sky.

But in a moment
my eye caught sight
of a coyote
padding along
the valley floor
almost the color
of the dirt and brush
around him,
bringing me back
to reality and hardness.

Stay hidden, coyote,
and step away
from man–
because where he steps
death is all around.

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A Snow White Song

a children’s poem by Thomas Davis

Softly whisper to the snow
As the snow whispers down from the sky
And cover yourself with a blanket of song
As the snow comes down to lie

Upon the ground, to cover the ground
With a blanket white and cold.
Softly sing your snow white snow
And sleep with the sleep of the snow.

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Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis