untangling the web

poetry about and photography of everyday happenings and sights


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Early Sunday Morning

Striding ahead on Pine Trail

in Powhatan State Park,

energized by cooler air,

I almost trip and fall,

and am reminded that

I might be missing that

for which I have come,

so Luna and I

stop, look, and listen.

 

A canopy of trees overhead

keeps us almost dry

as the gentle rain hits

leaves far above

and plops on those below.

 

I see wet and glistening

Sassafras, and

shy, striped Wintergreen,

soft green moss,

and a path strewn

with rusty pine needles.

 

I hear birds chattering

to their neighbors

and squirrels foraging.

Only a distant plane

interrupts the peace

that comes to those

walking in the woods.

 

Who could ask for more?

Right here, right now,

I have everything I need.


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Mr. Bluebird

Fiercely protective of

his territory and brood,

a male bluebird pecks on

a downstairs window,

attacking the enemy.

 

He flies up and

begins anew on

an upstairs window,

seeing the image only

as one who will do him harm.

 

Even though we understand

the mystery of a reflection,

we are much like this bluebird,

unable to see who

the real enemy is.

 

As Pogo said, “We have

met the enemy and

he is us.”