Gwynne Mason

Response

Anicca

Book, Handmade by Gwynne, all Papers, Handmade by Gwynne

Marla Deschenes

Inspiration

October

October closes its sweatered arms around me
The crunch of falling leaves greet both my feet
And my constant companion’s
Though his feet double mine.
I can’t imagine a world where
You spend your life looking at the backs of people’s knees
Although sometimes I feel as though
My life really is like that anyway
If I think about it long enough.

It was always about October
And stolen cigarettes

And
You.

I spend my days marveling at how I got here
When I spent so much time trying to deny that
I wanted nothing more
Than this – all of it.
From the fenced-in yard to the home that I know by its creaks and sighs
In the nights spent closed in your arms
In our home
My life really is like that anyway
If I think about it long enough.

It is never about me
More the constant nights
Smoking behind the shed

And
You.

I am most creative during this time
When everything around me is readying for sleep.
I watch the leaves save their final goodbyes
And imprint their muddied shadows on the pavement.
I am aging in this skin
A scary prospect with the vision
Of being old and tattooed
And forgotten.
No one wants to die alone
Like October.

Always on that path
The fastest way
Connecting the highways lines back

To
You.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Note:  All of the art, writing and music on this site belongs to the person who created it.  Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Morning on Hoel Pond
Elizabeth Cordes
Inspiration Piece

No sound but the gentle ripples
against my canoe.
The sky is gray
and mist hanging in the trees
seeps down to blanket the lake
in layers of mystery.

I lay my paddle at my feet
and pull the hood close around my face.
The predawn chill permeates all.
I shiver in the stillness.

Two loons call,
greeting each other,
or perhaps in warning of my presence.

A stranger in this untouched land,
I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
Nothing but cold, crisp, clean air,
a hint of pine.
Quiet. Calm. Peaceful.

I glide back to the shore,
my paddle slicing the surface,
stirring the mist into spiraling ghosts.
The day breaks softly,
illuminating the sky
from behind the clouds,
a single layer of muted silver.

The forest awakening now,
I feel it reaching out to embrace me.
The loons call again.
I am home.

——————————–

Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.