Autumn Yellow

October 9, 2013 by 4 Comments
Yellow Leaves

Yellow Leaves © 2013 Bo Mackison

In taking time to contemplate the small – in observing the details…we can experience life on a manageable scale.
~ Marilyn Barrett

 

Sitting under the emerald ash
green-yellow shimmers,
pierced-work light filters through
and quivering, touches the ground, settling
in the flutter of fallen leaves.
Wayward chickadee hops branch
to branch, twee-hee.

I am the statue. The tree bursts open
with flits, twitters, chase scenes,
each bird shouldering its way to the feeder
shoving match, the littlest chickadee
flies into leafy cover.

Earthy October and dusty leaves,
crumples of brown, closing my eyes,
I imagine my hands, they open
the trunk. It’s filled with yellowed letters and
faded handwriting, cancelled stamps on
featherweight airmail envelopes.

Red squirrels scavenge the hickory nuts,
their tails a shimmer like can-can skirts.
My feet are bare, toes grip the earth, it is how
I hang on to this spinning world
when it dips and dives out of synch.

And we creep towards the coming dark,
hail the purple skies and the last gasp trees of scarlet.
Color my world. Cheery-cheery trills the cardinal.
Twilight descends, the first star shines.
Make a wish. Spin around twice.
Go inside and turn on the lights.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.   Autumn color is coloring my world.

Filed Under: Nature Explorations, Photography, Writing Practices Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

Dreaming of Grasshoppers and Lions

September 26, 2013 by 3 Comments
Dahlia, Oh Dahlia

Dahlia, Oh Dahlia © 2012 Bo Mackison

 

In the dream, I rest under the red-streaked flower petals,
lean hard against the wooly stem, gulping air, out of breath.
The palms of my hands press deep, leaving imprints
in the sugary sap. A dahlia forest. And I am ant-sized

and suddenly outnumbered by a cloud of gray-headed
grasshoppers. Sap from the stem drips on me, thin and
opaque like school glue. The stem is a vertical rope
and I ascend, slide between the shivery-cool sheets.

A ragged grasshopper leaps high, plucking the lowest petals,
shredding them into flower confetti which falls to the earth.
I climb deeper into the flower as more grasshoppers
dance in wild catapults, flinging me about. The petals tremble.

And it’s a dream, yes, so as I spill out of the petals,
the roar of a lion frightens away the grasshoppers
and I awake, perplexed, then laugh amused,
as the cat’s tail flicks my face and he leaps from my bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Apparently I have wild dreams about miniature flora while under the influence of pain medication. Hmmm. Hoping to get back on track soon.

Filed Under: Photography, Writing Practices Tagged With: , ,

Hanging On? Time to Let Go!

September 25, 2013 by 5 Comments
Hanging On

Hanging On, and Then… © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength.
However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it.”
~ Ann Landers

The old ways are so comfortable. I know this.
I hesitate when told it’s time to let go,
take flight…where am I going?
The possibilities rise endlessly,
questions to ponder, details, details.
No time for planning, just let go.

The leaf releases, takes flight,
precious, brief, free fall, wind drift. Swirl.
Does it land upon the earth – field or garden?
Blow across the prairie, catch upon a protruding stalk?
Drift into the lake, sink to the muddy bottom?

Feed the earth, feed the garden,
decomposing, new earth, crumbly and nutritive?
Wither on the stalk, get torn apart by biting winds?
Sink into the wet, matted and slimy,
transform into a home, a hiding place, for tiny critters?

I let go of the familiar,
fly away with the unpredictable winds.
The future is unknown, my game of possibility.
Though I’d plotted my course, only an unexpected gust,
and I’m in new territory, unexplored places
frightening, exciting.

Oh, the challenges ahead!
Forward, then, with open eyes, open mind, open heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Life is one continual opportunity for change – sometimes adapting to those changes is as adventurous as riding a leaf in a windstorm.

Filed Under: Photography, Writing Practices Tagged With: , , , , ,

The Wind, One Brilliant Day

September 16, 2013 by 7 Comments
Prairie Seeding, Late Summer

Late Summer © 2013 Bo Mackison

Seeker, there is no path. The path is made by walking.”
~ Antonio Machado

The Calling

The wind, one brilliant day, called.
The clouds, one brilliant day, glided.
The monastery bell, one brilliant day, echoed.
The crickets, one brilliant day, whistled.
The goldenrod, one brilliant day, waved.
The honey bee, one brilliant day, danced.
The seed heads, one brilliant day, shimmered.
The meadowlark, one brilliant day, chanted.
The tall grasses, one brilliant day, beckoned.

My body, one brilliant day, paused.
My mind, one brilliant day, listened.
My heart, one brilliant day, opened.
My soul, one brilliant day, leapt.
My spirit, one brilliant day, accepted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Today I brought my day pack — journal and pen, book, camera, lunch — and walked the prairie trail at Holy Wisdom Monastery near Madison. Afterwards, I sat on a bench overlooking the late summer prairie, Lake Mendota glittering in the distance, and read from The Art of Pilgrimage by Phil Cousineau.

My imagination was triggered by a line in the book, a few words from Spanish poet Antonio Machado — “the wind, one brilliant day, called…” And so I give credit to Machado for the first line of the above poem.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is photographer, book-maker, collector of stories, naturalist, curator and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Today I walked the prairie and considered the universe.

Filed Under: Photography, Writing Practices Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

Catching Moonlight

August 11, 2013 by 4 Comments
Baskets

Catching Moonlight © 2013 Bo Mackison

At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come as press its face against mine. Breathe into me. ~ Rumi

 

At night.
When my part of the world is mostly asleep or rumbling in their night games,
warm milk, pacing the floor, listening to sirens in the street far below,
I seek the brightness of the moon.

Its beams slip through my fingers, dusty cool light,
deep breath and I swallow pure light, cleanse those old words,
reverberating, angry. The echoes linger.

I push away their swirling energy before their voracious appetite eats me alive,
nibbles at my heart, carves a cavernous hole
in my chest where the pain and rejection lives.

Wild animal claws.

Moon, dress me with your blue light,
your calm, your wisdom, guide me as I walk away, past the
words flung from darkness, curses to corral my spirit,
you who do not believe in hope, do not steal mine.

I move on, the past drifts into faraway fog
again I breathe in the cool light, step from the shadow
of whispering doubts flung my way,
break from the shackles of your claustrophobic grip.

Breathing freedom.
Cast in the soft glow, awash in light.
I am whole. I am.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. Rumi inspires poetry, late night in a far-away-from-home airport.

Filed Under: Writing Practices Tagged With: , ,
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