As usual, whenever I go photo hunting, I am up very early to beat the sunrise and I’m off to find the perfect spot to photograph. But in Carmel it is a bit easier to roll out of bed before … Continue reading
The Aspen spires in the distance are hailng us,
swaying gently in the wind with colors luminous.
From our precarious perch, a sparkling, sun-dappled view
of shimmering, shivering glints of sunlight against a palid sky of blue.
Land of crags and steeples, running waters most pure,
wonder of wonders, dazzling sights and a temptress to lure.
Earth Enchantress, we clasp our hearts at this noble tome
of glimmering ribbons of glass against peaks of golden stone.
Small creatures scurry to their humble burrough homes
in this forest of fluttering leaves and yellow tones,
running and jumping together or alone, each to its measure,
joyful outbursts of laughter and rapturous pleasure.
A worn trail takes us ambling along
through the grasses and trees. Do you hear a faint song?
Down fall the leaves overhead, whirling about.
The aspen are whispering. We are welcome, no doubt.
Viola Geary Odell
Sharing a poem from page 38 of the book, While Wandering: A Photo-Poetic Journey Through California Landscapes:
Tranquil Skies and Churning Seas
Your life, presented in color, robust, terrifyingly alive,
a scene of grandeur, danger and temptation, desperate to survive.
Wary travelers tiptoe past the rocks to avoid the dashing shoals.
Crashing surf and blustery winds sing the siren’s song of wayward souls.
High cliffs and sandy beaches, icy water and scorching sun,
adventure awaits an ardent, innocent, unwary one.
There is power before you, revealed in fearsome waves and subtle undertow
shipwrecked sailors struggle to reach the shore — faded away eons ago.
How intense the sea and sky
croons and murmurs beckon in a harsh and solemn lullaby
to reach that distant sandy beach, beyond the jagged bluff
at last to recover and to rest
triumphant, done, you have won your fearsome, briny test.
Prepare yourself well for the rhythmic tide
of surge and swell, deluge of storms, misguided,
while Poseidon, King of the Sea, races the wave
and his son, Triton, dances, blares his trumpet and misbehaves.
By Viola Geary Odell