Blink, and Look Again

Monday Morning Musings:

Blink, and Look Again

“There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes. . .”
Emily Dickinson,

“Tell all the truth but tell it slant —”
Emily Dickinson

I have more to say about images,
the ones within the ones in frames,
the shadows and reflections,
the dreamworlds
and the in-between

what you see and don’t,
the half-glimpsed, and
the quickly vanished.

Consider the photos
of galaxies beyond, the ghost light we see,
a miracle, amazing, full of color, brighter
than what we’ve ever seen before—

and yet,
it’s a blink from the past,
there’s no way to capture the present,
and hold it tight,

Eagles and Crows at the River

each second flies,
but why do some move so swiftly
on eagle wings,
while others linger,
as bees on flowers–
some burst bright-blossomed,
others fade like the moon
smiling into sunrise clouds,
but most tick past, tiny ants
in the dirt of time.

Quickly, how our babies grow.
Suddenly, how summer skin turns cold.
The green world is dying,
the world is burning and frying,
the grass is crunchy,
the ponds and streams are dry.
We close our windows, turn on the a/c,
say goodbye,
then eat our salads, as so many die.

Life wasn’t simpler before,
we simply didn’t want to know
all the worlds are connected,
the future holds the past.

Who is the woman in the mirror?
What happened to the dark-haired girl?
See my long-legged shadow? A super-hero
in another realm
who bends the light, to see the slant,
in that,
a prism of colors, truth abloom—
perhaps, more than one timeline in this room.

My shadow in the light at Red Bank Battlefield

My readers know I love time, shadows, reflections, and all the in-between things. I’m still thinking about the exhibit we saw Pictures in Pictures,

Self-Portrait in a Dresser Mirror: Cream Hill, 1930, Wanda Gág–Philadelphia Museum of Art

as well as recent movies mentioned in previous posts (Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes and Everything Everywhere All at Once) and then Emily Dickinson popped into my head (as she does) 😏. And the recent Webb Telescope Photos. Now we’re watching Shining Girls (Apple TV), starring Elisabeth Moss, which combines searching for a serial killer who attacked her and time travel—shifting realities. We’re about half-way through the series. Here’s the trailer. I hadn’t watched it before. You probably know already if you’d like this type of show.

It’s been too hot to go anywhere. We may get storms tonight. I’m hoping we get steady rain, not a sudden burst. We had a lot of rain in the spring and early summer, but now everything is very dry from the extreme heat.

There’s been a lot of bird action at the river recently. I’ve seen the young eagle a few times, and once watched crows chasing it.

We’ve been eating this tomato salad a lot for dinner. I never was that fond of tomatoes, but these fresh Jersey farm stand tomatoes with salt, good olive oil, fresh basil, and some fresh mozzarella, along with bread to mop up the juice, are the perfect hot weather dinner.

Summer farm stand tomatoes, olive oil, basil from out garden–delicious!

Take Three Things, and Dream

Monday Morning Musings:

Take Three Things, and Dream

Take three things: dazzling sunshine,
a heart, the earth–
toss them about
till your questions have answers,
in that place, meet your dreams, they flutter

Crows, Turkey Vultures, Ospreys, Delaware River

some devoured by vultures, or stamped with regret,
others soaring with promise.
What is, what might be
imparted, parted, part

of a larger truth—
the fabulation of life

the blue horses that dash
from beyond, the secret
that magic is all around us

yet, we reinvent ourselves
over and over, creating new
fantasies and fables, feigning triumph
or obedience, accepting hoaxes,
living in the upside-down

Water Lilies, West Deptford Library Rain Garden

West Deptford Library Rain Garden
Upside-Down World. Reflections in a big puddle

Now take three things again:
heart, sunshine, earth,
ask if but not when
simply wonder, wander
in the middle, till you hear laughter
like champagne bubbles
echoing in pink light, remember–
be steadfast, love fiercely—

Well, this past week certainly was something, wasn’t it? Was it only last Tuesday that we celebrated the solstice?

Then came more revelations from the January 6 Committee Hearings, then a bunch of decisions from the highjacked reactionary Supreme Court, including overturning Roe v. Wade. And amid this, nature just doing what it does, moving on. Sun, clouds, flowers, birds, animals. . .life and death, cycles and circles.

We celebrated our wedding anniversary of many decades—and we’ve known each other more than half a century.

We saw a play on our anniversary (rescheduled because of COVID outbreak in the cast), Fabulation, or the Re-education of Undine by Lynn Nottage at the Lantern Theater. We both enjoyed it—funny, clever, social satire. We both thought the second act was much better than the first, and it all came together in a perfect ending. After the play we went to Tria and enjoyed a lovely Crémant for our anniversary, then a Shiraz for me and beer for my husband. We had a cheeseboard of yummy Pennsylvania cheeses.

On Sunday, we ate Indian food and drank some French Champagne along with champagne chocolates truffles. We watched a London performance of Anything Goes with Sutton Foster that I had recorded a couple months ago. Ricky the Cat loved it.

And here’s a mural for Resa: Garden of Delight.

And Sutton Foster in Anything Goes.

Vanishing Point

Peder Severin Krøyer, Summer Evening at Skagen. The Artist’s Wife and Dog by the Shore

Vanishing Point

In summer’s late twilight,
violet waves tumble with mystery,
the clouds are shapeshifters,
now ships, now galloping horses
dipping their heads to graze.

This is the place where wishes dangle
and we are hooked–
lungs for gills, legs for voice–
no way to go back,
promises polished like sea glass
shatter on the rocks.

Five years. We still gaze at the horizon,
still listen for his voice, don’t we, Boy?
A tail wag of hope before we turn, leaving
our footprints. Blink, and they’re gone, too.

A poem for my summer ekphrastic prompt on dVerse. I’ve posted several works of art to choose from. Join us!

In this June

If in the whisper of sea,
the rolling rush and breathy brush of storm-tossed waves,
kissing the shore,
you dream of moon-song,
then wake to hear the symphony of light lingering–
take my hand, in the peach-petaled sun-glow,
to walk through shadows,
there beneath the craggy cliffs
still heart-haunted, the universe rests—yet–
listen. Do you hear summer sing?
Through open windows, ghosts soar
embracing hereafter, as flowers bloom again,
as love blooms again, as the sky blooms pink and red—again
and again, and again.

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. It’s been a long, difficult year, and Covid with new variants is still here, but with vaccinations, the world–at least my part of the world–is opening up again. The Oracle always knows. We had a beautiful day yesterday, though we didn’t go to the beach this year. (There will be photos on Monday.)

Green and Growing

Monday Morning Musings:

In June, my world is greening, growing
high, the sky in shades of blue and grey,
but showing a spark, a glow, some bit of light,
even on a cloudy day

before daybreak, the robin sings, brings
the pink of dawn, so bright, the sight
awakens geese and bees to hover on
some golden flowers, and in delight

the little ones scamper, goslings, rabbits, deer
hiding in the shade, wade through bushes for the blooms
of orange, yellow, red, violet, and green
growing, knowing all too soon

the colors fade,
but grandmothers with grey-haired wisdom weigh
and know how plants, pictures, stories grow
when nourished with love sway past grey, to stay

beyond June, in memory greening, growing,
like the mockingbird’s song all night and day
holding heartache into laughter flowing–and showing
a path to make everything okay.

Merril’s Movie Club: We watched Minari this week. We both liked this lovely, tender movie very much. It’s the story of a Korean American family trying to make their own American dream on a farm in Arkansas. The dream is really the husband’s, which causes some conflict in the marriage. Yuh-Jung Youn, who plays the grandmother, won an Oscar for her role. She plants minari, a leafy green plant often used in Korean dishes, and also creates a bond with her grandson, after a rocky start.

Thinking about the movie and seeing all the color in this growing season made me think of my mom. She didn’t know anything about planting, but she did teach my children how to see plants and how to paint them, and she loved flowers and color.

Some paintings by mom, Sylvia Schreiber.

We went to Vino and Vibes at William Heritage Winery with daughter and son-in-law, and we returned there on a Sunday for a members’ only event.

Still Soaring

Monday Morning Afternoon Musings:

 

Between the misty amethyst

and the brilliant blue—there’s a pause

in the morning’s soft pink music, a rest

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Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield, National Park, NJ, shortly after sunrise. July 2020 ©️ Merril D. Smith 2020

 

before the restart of staccato cardinal chirps,

the flute of robin trills,

and the crescendo of crow caws

 

burst through the feathered clouds,

with the bright blue of belonging—

here and now

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Delaware River, West Deptford, NJ. ©️Merril D. Smith, 2020

 

I walk

along the day’s determined path,

yet debating

 

both path and determined,

the ifs, whens, and whys

of going further, beyond

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I found an almost hidden path.

to find something else

hidden

like words within

 

waiting to be spoken.

 

“Eat chocolate,” my sisters say,

and share the thought of our mother’s laugh

echoing from the past,

 

flowing like a river through time,

all the versions of me and you,

the world

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in both the radiance of the sun

and the silvery shimmer of the moon,
pale blue and green,

 

and when I wish upon the ghost glow

of a thousand stars

I feel the dust of dreams

 

within and without,

as feathers fly from the sky

to land at my feet in trails of white light

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silent, at rest,

here, now

bits of something larger, still soaring.

A late edition of my Monday musings. I think Jane and I challenged each other to use the Love set of tiles from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. The Oracle and I once again collaborated, with more inspiration from my morning walks.

I’ve been baking with summer fruit, but I do indeed have a chocolate stash.

 

Merril’s Movie Club: We watched Radioactive (Amazon Prime, 2020), a new movie about Marie Curie. I wanted this to be wonderful, but it wasn’t. It was OK, but she was such a brilliant woman, and this, sadly, is not a movie that shines. We also watched Straight Up(Netflix), a sort of rom com where a young man who may be gay, but isn’t sure, finds his soul mate is a woman. It was enjoyable, but not great.

So we went back to darker stuff: we started watching Bordertown, a Finnish series on Netflix. So far, it’s very good. I like “Scandi-noir,” and shows that explore family life as well as the crimes.

 

 

 

 

 

Picnics at the Lake, NaPoWriMo

So many picnic dinners at the lake. We are all younger and thinner. I wear my hair in braids; my skin is smooth and summer-brown. Summers seem full of warm promises—and gentle breezes carry magic. A butterfly perches on the flowered center of my purple bathing suit. I watch her in delight, though I can’t understand her whispered secrets. Still, I keep them.

 

Rose petals turn brown,

traces of perfume lingers–

ghosts drift from the past

 

Day 30, the last day of NaPoWriMo! We’re asked to write a minimalist poem–so the haiku here. I’m also linking this to Haibun Monday on dVerse, where Gina has asked us to write about picnics.

 

 

 

 

Colors of the Morning: Haibun

It is dark now when I wake. Fall is coming, though the air is still summer-steamy. The moon winks good morning and good-bye, in a sky that has turned from midnight blue to indigo. I watch as the sun, heralded by streaks of peach-tinged clouds, slowly rises, and the sky fades to bleached denim. A blue jay screams as he tries to land in the kitchen window bird feeder. He swoops and tries again, then heads back to the trees to tell of his adventures. I drink my coffee as the cats take their morning nap. Rosh Hashanah comes early this year. Soon—despite the heat—I’ll be baking loaves of round challah and simmering a pot of golden pumpkin soup for the new year.

 

lush green leaves and grass

harbor blue birds and brown squirrels—

one red-gold leaf falls

 

 

This Haibun is for dVerse, where Mish asked us to write about morning, and also for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. For this 100th challenge, she left the words to us!

Awkward Fantasy and Ghosts

Monday Morning Musings:

“We have grown to trust blindly in our senses of balance and reason, and I can see where the mind might fight wildly to preserve its own familiar stable patterns against all evidence that it was leaning sideways.”

–Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

The weather has been erratic. Storms followed by sunshine, but always hot, only the level of humidity changes. The volatile, vacillating moods are echoed in the movie we see about a woman with an abusive husband and their custody battle. Neither child wants to see the father, but the daughter, who is almost eighteen, doesn’t have to. It’s the ten-year-old son, Julian, who must submit to visiting his father in this movie that becomes an intense thriller, rather than a legal drama. After the movie, we walk through Old City, where ghosts still walk, flitting through gates to hover over flowers, and drift over the cobblestone streets.

 

Sun-chased charcoal clouds

tumble through the evening sky

bright blooms smile hello

Summer in Old City, Philadelphia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We sip wine another night as the sky changes once again—blue turning grey. But we stay.

Wine glasses turn red,

echoes of the summer blooms

coloring the gloom

 

William Heritage Winery, NJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We travel to the New Jersey Fringe Festival in Hammonton, NJ—“Blueberry Capital of the World.” We see three short plays, funny, touching, strange. (It is fringe after all.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer festivals

walk through human emotion,

taste laughter and tears

We see a play about two fantasy worlds colliding,

sliding together

the man who lives in a porno world

meets a woman

then hurled

into her action hero world.

We thought the script could be tightened,

some excised, some enlightened,

but it was silly fun—and we’d only just begun

 

when off to the next one

about a man with two cartoon character names

and a most awkward life,

not so much filled with strife,

rather loneliness and seeking to connect

(even when his house is wrecked)

it’s whimsical, with ukulele and narration

and women who give him quite an education

in their multiple roles in his life, unlucky as it is

somehow, we see some hope at the end in his.

 

We pause to shop and eat gelato

 

NJ Fringe Festival,
Hammonton, NJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

walk through the flow, and then go

onto the next play

stay there in the small, hot basement room

listen to the man, the actor, speak,

we jump at every creak

we’ve seen him before

(someone opens the door

to cool the room a bit,

and still we sit).

Last year he performed here

serial murderer Jeffery Dahmer,

he is compelling, in this telling

of the ghosts and demons he has seen.

All the evidence leaning sideways,

We always

Try to make sense of what we see and fear

And here

With theater we sway a bit—wonder what is real

What did he see? What did he feel?

Is it all a metaphor for inner trauma,

Packaged as paranormal drama?

And does it matter if it is?

We take what he gives

entertainment and thoughtful reflection

we walk and talk in the direction

of our car. Then off to dinner, a day well spent

in this summer event.

The clouds fly by—

perhaps it’s my fantasy

to see ghosts and shadow figures in the sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I decided to play with form a bit today–Haibun and rhyme.

We saw the French movie, Custody. Trailer here. We went to the NJ Fringe Festival and saw, Wildest Fantasy, The Most Awkward Love Life of Peabody Magoo, and Ghost Stories.

We ate dinner at Mera Khana in Berlin, NJ, where I finally got my vegetable samosas. (Everything they make is delicious.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cloud Houses of Dreams

Monday Morning Musings:

“I would build a cloudy House
For my thoughts to live in;
When for earth too fancy-loose
And too low for Heaven!”

–Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “The House of Clouds”

“I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It’s cloud illusions I recall

I really don’t know clouds at all.”

–Joni Mitchell, “Both Sides Now”

 

 

Striking in their billowing shapes, watch them drift, the clouds.

Somehow relaxing, to see them shift, the clouds.

***

 

On a beautiful afternoon in July,

we walk, a blue bed is the sky

for puffy clouds to lay upon

transient, seen, and then they’re gone—

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

like the inhabitants who once held sway

on these cobblestone streets, walked each day–

in daily life and times of strife they lived in these houses

with children, relatives, with their spouses,

Elfreth Alley, Philadelphia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

do their spirits yet walk here under moonlit clouds

shy, hesitant, or fierce and proud?

I must ask my friends who once lived herein

if they ever encountered such ghostly denizens.

 

We watch a movie about a baker of cookies and cakes

who travels under a cloud, with a life that’s fake

but ghosts and memories bring new love–

sort of—

(The pasty looks delicious, but the story hard to convey

without giving too much away.)

 

We eat pizza and drink wine while the weather is fine—

against more green, blue, and white, we sip and dine

taking advantage of this unusual meteorological blip

before the storm clouds roll in and the forecast flips—

Auburn Road Winery,
Salem County, NJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

which it does, the skies turn grey

the white clouds drift away

and I build cloud houses from my thoughts

turn them away from should and oughts

Raining on the Ben Franklin Bridge

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

but I dream of houses with stairs to nowhere

or perhaps from here to there,

if only I can find the right paths (or footwear)—

a dream with goals and friends and cats,

and if there’s unfinished business—

well, I can live with that.

His work is done. Sweet Dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m sorry about the spacing here. I can’t quite figure out how to fix it.

People still live in the homes of Elfreth’s Alley. You can read about it here.

We saw the Israeli movie The Cakemaker. Trailer here.

We went to Auburn Road Vineyards.