Lake Cadillac, Michigan
I have returned! And that means pictures, poems, and (soon enough) short stories on the way.
The great Sleeping Bear Dunes, and beyond that, Lake Michigan.
So where did I go? To the north! What does that mean? If you know anything of Michigan, what that means is the beauty of Traverse City, the vast pine and maple beech forests of the northern lower peninsula, and the breathtaking scale of the sweeping sand dunes known as Sleeping Bear Dunes.
I have a case of this thing known as Wanderlust, you see. It demands I go places when the mood settles too deeply within me. Thus, away I went. Try not to be too offended if it happens from time to time.
More to the point, I still have to finish posting the work I completed in Colorado, but for today at least, that’s going on hold to make room for the pair of poems I made while off on this week’s travels. To begin, a simple haiku:
Breathless blue romance
By the blooming emerald hills;
How vibrant life stirs.
What you may notice about these Haiku is that they do not, in fact, have to do with the mountains themselves, as many of the my previous works have. Though these came from my time in Colorado, they were inspired by other sights around me–the city of Denver, for one, the sight of the towering mountain mines for another.
Also, while there are more still to come, I want to say that once again, there may be another brief hiatus on posting as I head north. I will only be gone for a few days, and when I return, posting will resume as normal.
In the meantime, enjoy:
Split the rock below,
Drills bore into deepest hold—
Dead men tell no tales.
Rocky mile high club
Five hundred thousand souls strong
No wonder they smile.
Beyond the pale light
Sleeps the gilded dragon king—
Fear the reigning flame.
Today, breaking from the usual vacation-based poems of the week, I give you a series of Haikus. The trip was beneficial for many things, but my Haiku especially saw a lot of work while I was away. Enjoy:
Man climbs high above
But the earth climbs higher still;
Highest rides the sun.
Each step, hotter fire
Each breath, a chiller embrace—
The sky is thinning.
Fourteen thousand feet,
The world becomes a crystal
Despite summer heat.
Perhaps its because neither of these posts come with photos, but today I feel struck with the urge to drop two poems on you. The first was about my night ride through the mountains, and like its predecessor, this one is all in the title: a fire on the mountain. This one in particular saddens me for not capturing, but the fire struck as the evening was coming on, high up in the mountains, and I was caught in my car, in the seat opposite it, far and away from the actual site of the flames. What few shots I did get were marred by the glass and the swirl of the smoke.
Even so, I composed a poem of it, as it still struck me, even from a distance. Fire. Destruction. Beauty. We often focus on the destructive power of fire, but like any other element of our world, there is an unrivaled sense of beauty to it. We fear it, but it is only natural. It may herald destruction, but it is also a forerunner to creation, a key part of the cycle of death and rebirth.
Fire on the Mountain
Black skies loom over the valley—
There’s a fire on the mountain
Like a lighthouse in the night
And the smoke is rising,
Lightning sparks the hills
And only then
The houses in the trees.
The Famous Red Rocks
It’s Sunday, which means the latest batch of weekly quotes. This time around, keeping to the tune of my Colorado trip, all are nature-themed. One is actually a poem as well, written by the renowned Lord Byron. Beneath these I have also included another pair of pictures from my travels through the mountains. I hope you enjoy – for there is truly no mortal beauty quite so great as the power and majesty we may behold each day in the world around us.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more.
~George Gordon, Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright. ~Henry David Thoreau
I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. ~E.E. Cummings
Trails wind into the heart of winter,
Built serpentine through rock and wood.
The life runs through it,
Bursting through the seams.
White earth rain down
Upon the precipice—
Shield your eyes against the light,
There is fire in the winter sheen.