Tag Archives: woods
a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
A photograph by Sonja Bingen after her walk with her mother and father in Potawatomi State Park a mile from our house in Sturgeon Bay, the place where Ethel and I walk with our dogs, Juno and Pax, every morning even in January and February.
a Spenserian sonnet by Thomas Davis
Albino does emerge from banks of snow
Into the moonlight of the winter night.
The sheen of silver from the ghostly glow
Of luminance stained from the full moon’s light
Spreads through the shadows where the snow’s soft white
Moves with the movement of the silent deer.
The maple trees begin to stir, a slight
Breath silent through a sky pristinely clear.
A huge tree cracks. A wave of startled fear
Jerks through the deer. A wind begins
To blow through barking trees, the atmosphere
Alive with movement as the moonlight spins
Light dancing through an empty field that flows
With running waves of ghostly silver does.
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
I’ve come again
to watch your woods,
snow up to my thighs,
across the tops of trees—
like when I was little.
On windy days
I would run
into the woods
and listen to the wind
roaring across the tops
but stillness would
I think of trees
those that are
that guard us
from all the clamor
at the top,
the quiet and stillness