The iron prow-head points forward
As in knowing the future direction
It also balances the weight of the past
At the stern of my gondola.
Snapshots of the Now Series (7) mobile
Tag Archives: Snapshots of the Now
Curved.
They say time is curved
Observing the event horizon from the outside
Is considerably less painful
Than riding the curve on the inside
Stumbling on all the broken pieces.
Snapshots of the Now Series (6) mobile
Castles and High-speed Trains.
The Now is timeless
A play of shadows and light
Anno fourteenten.
Soon, with lightning speed
The scenario changes
Frecciarossa.
Snapshots of the Now Series (5) mobile
Eye-opening.
You can see very far
From the London Eye
Far into the future
When you’d rather
Just stay in the past.
You have to notice
The blue skies
And feel the lingering warmth
Of the autumn sun
Hope in disguise.
Snapshots of the now series (4) mobile
Two Suitcases.
How do you say goodbye
To a lake and a house
Full of childhood memories?
How do you pack your
Precious moments from the past
Into two suitcases?
I cannot tell you
Because this morning
I discovered I don’t know how.
Snapshots of the Now Series (3) mobile
Salt Crystals and Brown Tears.
Home only for a moment
Heavy salt crystals on my windows
The only reminder of the hurricane
I am grateful, but sad
Mother Nature is hurt
Her head is down, she is crying
Brown tears spill
On her previously green skirt.
Snapshots of the now series (2) mobile
Snapshots of the Now. Waiting.
I have finally reached the point on my journey to acceptance of what happened in July, where I would love to get back to blogging. But I am not ready to write my usual ‘light touch’ nature stories. Nor have I been able to engage in photography like I used to. Or to focus on reading.
I have realized, however, that life is a string of snapshots of the now. I will be attempting to post frequent snapshots of my life ‘now’ as it unfolds for the next few weeks. Maybe just an iPhone shot, a short poem or something similar. Simple. Often mobile. Comments closed.
To get started, I am sharing a few snapshots of my life in the past two weeks.
Waiting for some dolphins to appear on the Labor Day weekend, when Hurricane Irma was still churning far out on the Atlantic.
And they did…playful as ever. Good times. Grief slowly fading into the background.
And then there was the quiet before the storm. Calm seas. An eerily beautiful seascape on a perfect day. But nobody was enjoying it. The lonely lifeguard shack was waiting to be moved to safety. Like most of us.
This peaceful scene was in sharp contrast to my frantic search for a flight to get out of here with Dylan. Paradise in Zone A. Mandatory evacuation.
I have crisscrossed the globe, but seldom been happier to finally see a plane at the gate. One of the last planes to leave the airport before it would be closed. Our temporary home would be wherever that plane flew. A ticket to anywhere.
Flashback. The last plane out from Addis Ababa at war. 1990s. A week after husband and son had been evacuated. Essential personnel.
A small studio apartment at a hotel in Philly. Waiting with Dylan and Wolf Blitzer. Wanting to go home. Whatever that might mean. Waiting.
Snapshots of the Now Series (1)
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