after the rain

The air smells of rain
As I stand on wet leaves
Yellow ones
-red tinged across their life lines.
They haven’t left their imprint yet
On the cracked sidewalks
-but soon
After they have almost all fallen
And after the rain
They will leave their stain.
By J.Hamilton

Quelques idées de bouquets ?

Mieux vivre Jardin

Le temps étant plutôt maussade, pourquoi ne pas égayer vos journées et vos intérieurs en confectionnant des bouquets ?

La couleur et l’odeur des fleurs amènent de la bonne humeur et dissipent grisaille et mécontentement 🙂

View original post

unbroken

unbroken.

unbroken

We walked once
On a midsummer day
Through a graveyard.
Blinded by the sun
And giddy
With our new found freedom.
we were children
And we wandered
Through the city streets
To the place where
The dead were buried.
Your cloud of chestnut hair
Clinging to the sweat on
Your milkwhite skin,
You walked in a daze
Laughing
Stumbling accidentally over a crumbling headstone.
There were so many headstones
Like this
Ancient and broken
Like the bones beneath.
We thought of the worms in the earth
Making their way through years of decay
But then
We heard church bells
And saw a pastor standing there
By the ivory church
His gown billowing,
The toppled grave stone
And the earth worms were forgotten.
A wedding ceremony was in progress
And we listened to
Organ music
Echoing through the heavy open
Oak door
And
smelled the fragrance of flowers wafting through the sleepy graveyard.
We walked past the graves,
The grass tickling our feet
To the road that would take us through
The bustling city core
Past the bakeries
And tea rooms
And past the ice cream parlors
Which left us with a deep thirst.
I think I managed to find some change
At the bottom of my pockets
And we shared a soda
In the stifling summer heat.
We walked and looked inside store windows
looking at chocolates
And parcels in gold wrapping.
We roamed through neighborhoods
With tree lined streets
And lawns so soft and so inviting
-we kicked off our shoes
And lay in the grass
Until we could stand again.
We weren’t afraid of becoming lost.
We weren’t afraid of becoming too tired
To continue walking
Though our blistered feet ached.
Happiness was unmarred by anything.
Before.
Not broken.
After,

We grew.

And the earth knew what i did not.
Deep in the earth
Were things that could not be unbroken.
-I wished that
In its place
a tree would grow
And be your shelter. By J. Hamilton

REFLECTIONS

The Equinoxial Garden

In Jim's Garden

As the summer sun sets into autumn, 

the final rays of the season of warmth and light kiss Mary and her elephant ears. 

The equinoxial garden is looking a bit ragged, 

though the landscape is yet green and vibrant.

Plenty of life and color remain to entertain the gardener. 

The various zinnia patches embrace the season with the zest we have come to expect of them.

Sharing their light and soil

with a wildflower 

or two.

The woods are ready to emerge back into the light. 

The dense canopy of maple trees has performed brilliantly this summer, protecting the woodland flowers from the harsh sun.

Bloodroot, Queen of the spring forest, has enjoyed the shady summer amidst the trees.

So has the wild ginger.

as has the Jack-in-the-Pulpit, though all that remains of that crafty plant is his stunning seed head.

As we move on from summer, we must give…

View original post 319 more words

it was spring

it was spring.

it was spring

It was spring
When I climbed off the bus
In a beige raincoat
-a thin dress underneath
Into the sun.
The rain managed to stop
In time for the anticipation to set in.
The excitement of looking
For something
But not sure what that something was.

Of getting lost
And for a moment
Not fearing the unknown
But becoming
the noise
The silence
The light and the heat
While drinking in pools of liquid green
And skies of renaissance-blue
And purple tulips
-the incarnation of spring. -j. Hamilton

leaves

leaves.

leaves

There are hints of fall in the air.
Burnt edged leaves
Falling from weathered bark
On to earth.
Dew on morning grass
Resembling
Frost,
Cool air at night
Billowing under the thin
Bedroom curtain.
Too early for fall
But yet I have seen glimpses of it
All summer
In the yellowed leaves
On my hammock,
In the brush strokes
Of branches on Windows.
It comes so soon
With the promise of change
-and the certainty
Of unknowns.

J. Hamilton

,