the wordless mystery

FullSizeRender-4abundance lifted on the arc of time
then the folding in ~
the circular successions of creation and negation
forever changing, dark and luminous
nature and destiny, coming and passing
ever active, whole, eternally nameless
the wild river, the still mountain
the wordless mystery

© 2016, poem and photograph, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved

Solitude, wild rain … and the writing itch …

12219406_790683201040275_4547427200115752178_nOh wild, wonderful rain during the night and into the morning, billowing in wind-gusted torrents.

For some time it drenched the walkway, forming puddles under the palms and the birch, and soaking the good brown earth below.  Thank goodness I’m alone here.  Sweet solitude, wild rain, and the writing itch.

“This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly”
Thomas Hardy, “The Complete Poems”

© 2015, words and photograph, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved