Tule Fog

-the heron that hid-

I love the tule fog   

it looks like magic 

and in the deep grays of winter 

I wish for it   

a fog of loveliness 

to hug this good earth 

in this good valley

 james lee jobe

I like the muted sounds, the shroud of grey, and the silence that comes with fog.

Om Malik

there is no ribbon in her hair

but I imagine it anyway

hanging down

in front of her sleepy face

as she rises to greet me

james lee jobe

Let us always meet each other with smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.

Mother Teresa

that I might awaken to the blessing of knowing

my own true nature and that I might be able to use

this knowledge to help others and to help the planet

james lee jobe

Links:

Requiem for Toni Morrison, a poem by Harmony Holiday

Habilitas, a poem by Rodrigo Toscano

Photos by Walker Evans on Artnet

Some of my privet, trimmed to point east. I’m proud that it does this, so it is now my ‘wallpaper.’ Hence, this screenshot.

The heron hides her head under a wing; perhaps she doesn't care to see the humans standing there, watching. The reeds in the shallows are rattled by a cold, wet wind. Fresh raindrops begin to trouble the surface of the dark green water, and so the water seems to be shivering. Winter has come to the slough, stark and fascinating. The heron moves on, but not us. We'll stay here for a while .

james lee jobe

Photo by Mitchell Orr on Unsplash

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