Misinformed

the moment
a tree
falls in the forest
crashes
breaking branches
thrashing limbs
cracking wood
makes a sound
heard by just one
witness
who tells the story
to friends
who were not there
an audience
unable to confirm
the moment
the noise
the disruption to
the peace of the forest
exaggerated
amplified
by words
feelings
hunches
fears
misrepresenting and
unable to precisely
articulate
the moment

– bardo

I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.

firewood

the fate of a tree brings a curious twist
starting as seed
on wind, through mist
tucked into the soil
spattered with rain
sprouting and growing new heights to attain
shrugging snow, budding leaf
basking summers often brief
sunlit evenings casting long shadows
brilliant colours before even more snows
year after year, decades pass, seasons withdraw
until fate arrives
as a wind
or a flame
or a saw
to be hewn and moved
lugged, logged and planed
milled into geometrically linear grained
lumber.
or not.
maybe nothing more than a log for a fire
split
axed
set hot
aflame and a flame to admire
to warm hands
hearts
and cook sizzling food
a curious twisting fate
from tree to fire wood.

– bardo

A cubic meter of firewood landed on my front lawn yesterday and I spent well over an hour carting and stacking it while feeling a bit bittersweet on the fate of these trees to become fuel for my future backyard fires rather than, say, lumber for the doghouse that I built a couple weeks ago.

I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.

melt

thin films of water
painting asphalt
with spring sounds
klooksh! kloompsh! klunsh!
me treading carefully
across
around
astride
black reflections on the ground
and remnants of winter
crunching underfoot
glinsch! grensch! glansch!
grit
stones
pebbles
traction against icy slickness
sweesse! schweesh! swaasse!
that linger in shade
cast by naked limbs
leafless
thawing
melting
into puddles
becoming wet toes

- bardo

I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.

iced windows

cold draft, I shiver
and firm up my will
sunrise view obscured
through ice on the sill

sub-thirty degrees
beyond two glass panes
breach fortress of warmth
amid frosted plains

one finger to glass
turns frost into tears
releasing brief drops
from chill winters fears

raw radiant chill
bracing, brisk and bold
I draw shut the blinds
and hide from the cold

- bardo

It has been thirty degrees below zero for three nights in a row, meaning that as even as we shut up the house each night and snuggle into the warmth of our beds, the chill creeps through the cracks and turns the windows into sheets of frost.

I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.