Photo by Brett Traffordvisit his site 365 to 42
for more beautiful photographs.
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Suggested Prompt...
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Offer a poem for this... put yourself sitting on the bank... on a quiet summer afternoon.
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By the River~
Here I ponder dreams to pass each silent hour
Old memories blanket the drowsy drifts
While wisps of wind mull over feeble flowers
Tall trees heave their seeded gifts
‘Twas here I spent days a lively lass
As sunlight share its reflective glimmer
Bare wet feet plodded through coppice grass
Trying hard to outrun the rolling river
Now sunset sighs upon silvery streams
My mirrored memoirs her currents weep
Though I wonder her origin, a mystery it seems
And what other secrets the lazy river keeps
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10 comments:
Brett...I love this photo...I am partial to soft focus...it really adds to the mood of the day. I will return later.
Dan
Lazy Day, Lazy River
The river streams slowly past,
Green grass damp beneath me.
The paddle wheels on the coming boats
Thump and swish their way toward me.
I should be off home,
Cleaning, canning, cooking,
But I sit,
Just a moment longer.
Lazy Hazy Day
on the bank of the river
Wondering
Pondering
Thoughts flooding through
The river meandering
sweet and slowly
A balance between us exists
I came back 3 months ago. I told my floor boss...a week at most...just to wrap up loose ends. A family business that ended with my father's passing. Fishing the bayous had been in the family for over 80 years. I left for NYU in 2001 and never returned. They bayous weren't for me...my future was with the NYSE as a stock trader on the floor. Dad never understood. As an only child, I was the heir apparent but I never returned.
Caught up in the devastation of September 11th of that year, all memories of the bayous faded and I became consumed with the city and it's recovery.
Now, as I stand looking on the two boats in need of repair, the bayou calls me back to my roots. A world away from wall street, I am not the man I thought I was...I am and will always be a Cajun. If Dad survived Katrina, I can rebuild the business now.
The heat and humidity tells me this is home. This is where I need to be.
Thank you Wall Street for the memories, the crazy nights spent in the shelter after 9/11, the adrenaline rushes of the opening bell and concerts in Central Park but my place is not in the belly of the beast...it is among the patchwork bayous of Southern Louisiana. Most of all, thank you Dad...I only wish I could have been here for you...I'm sorry.
Dan
A lazy evening of screaming children
I must get out and away
My husband sits in front of the television
I guess this is his time of the day
I exit the back door quietly
I creep away barefoot and free
He probably won't even notice I'm gone
Until the kids whine and "where's me?"
I carefully place my feet before me
In the grass, through the field and glen
The quiet around me breath into my lungs
And I feel like a child back then
My thoughts are alighted, I grow close to the water,
The reflection is dark in the dusk
I want to sit longer, but know I must not linger,
My baby is hungry I trust
But I sit awhile on the bank of the river,
Seeping in the light through my skin
I wish I could lay here for hours on hours,
But I must care for my kin
So up I go and backtrack again
Carefully placing my feet
But one day I'll return here, my soul to replenish
The sounds of the forests' heartbeat
THE LAZY RIVER
Slowly, silently, the current carries on
Down the lazy river of yesteryear
Depositing memories from long ago
And withdrawing emotions of the past
When did life get so complicated
That an afternoon on the shore is exhausting
And why did our reminiscences disappear
In the blink of the great urban sprawl
Turning back the tides of time
Reliving what we lost
The lazy river protects our hope
And gently wishes us on
Deep breath loosens my limbs,
Still air softens my senses,
Subtle light wakens my heart,
Summer day quiets my soul.
By the River~
Here I ponder dreams to pass each silent hour
Old memories blanket the drowsy drifts
While wisps of wind mull over feeble flowers
Tall trees heave their seeded gifts
‘Twas here I spent days a lively lass
As sunlight share its reflective glimmer
Bare wet feet plodded through coppice grass
Trying hard to outrun the rolling river
Now sunset sighs upon silvery streams
My mirrored memoirs her currents weep
Though I wonder her origin, a mystery it seems
And what other secrets the lazy river keeps
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