Beth Camp's Blog, page 23

OctPoWriMo 20: A Sun's Promise

For each day that beginswith sun and blue sky,I remember days of rain.Only bright colors could vanquishthat unrelenting gray.Here, close to mountains,once a volcanic belly, a city spreads out under the sun.Even when it rains, the sun appears at least once a day,keeping a promise,even when the snow falls too early,even when it rains,even if I feel gray.Lincoln Park, August 2020

OctPoWriMo 19: Florida Vacation

From north to south, we droveleaving hills of snow to warm cove,seeking respite from city strifeto discover birds unexpected,wood stork, so ugly, yet resurrected,out of the swamp, ungainly and alive,a sharp contrast to sleek blue heron,hunters both, their relentless quiet blaringthrough what peace we could contrive.Wood Stork (Florida, 2003)Great Blue Heron (Florida, 2003)With special thanks to

OctPoWriMo 18: Begin the morning . . .

Begin the morning with hot peppermint tea,hoping for a jolt. No caffeine;Dried peppermint leaves were once found in pyramids.Was its use medicinal or spiritual,a love potion of the time? My siptingles on the tongue with sharpness;the warmth soothes me to meditation, yet the tingles remain.Another taste, not the simple siptaken in a polite tearoomout of a delicate cup, but one ofthose big,

OctPoWriMo 17: Did You Smile Today?

Take a turn down whimsy lane,where the black and marigold cat stalkswith head and tail held high, past the shrubbery,teasing the little white lap dog behind that picket fence,who romps back and forth,its shrill bark piercing the morning quiet.Take a right on Mulberry Lane to the coffee shopwhere for a moment, that strong scent of lemon,tea, and hot lattes offer distraction.Maybe we could walk far

OctPoWriMo 16: Morning Musing

Went to the cupboard,the shelves were bare.What was I hoping to find there?Drank my morning coffee,down to the last sip,Covid stats up,Time for a trip.What's over that next hill,why are we waiting?I want that unexpected thrill,No hesitating.Pulled out the suitcase,filled it to the brim,How could I travelwithout him?                       Image by comfreak on Pixabay

OctPoWriMo 15: Looking Back

If only we could travel once again to Tanzania,south of the Serengheti, that quasi-safari in jeeps,a melange of people, national parks, and animals:history, culture, geography, so many wordsto prepare for the surprise of:a lion at dawn, leading her cubs to water,a wart hug sitting in a mud bath,two giraffes munching tree tops,a baby elephant destroying a tree for lunch,an ostrich in full plumage

OctPoWriMo 16: Looking Back

If only we could travel once again to Tanzania,south of the Serengheti, that quasi-safari in jeeps,a melange of people, national parks, and animals:history, culture, geography, so many wordsto prepare for the surprise of:a lion at dawn, leading her cubs to water,a wart hug sitting in a mud bath,two giraffes munching tree tops,a baby elephant destroying a tree for lunch,an ostrich in full plumage

OctPoWriMo 14: Promises

Some days the smallest of moments comfort us:acorns fallen by a leaf,an infant's bare toes curling tight with no socks,a kitten stretching her neck to be scratched,that brisk, fresh, first breeze of fall,the dogs romping in the back yard,an old man, napping, his white beard soft,a promise for tomorrow.For now, all is right in the world,perhaps not all right,but we have these moments yetto comfort

OctPoWriMo 13: My Mother . . .

My mother was a Hollywood starletuntil she had three daughters.I was the oldest, tall, nerdy, and wore glasses.My sister, one year younger, was like our mother.When she walked into a room,everyone else was invisible.That didn't bother me. I was already invisible.My baby sister, an afterthought, came along ten years later.I mothered her even afterour mother died.

OctPoWriMo 12: Maybe a Mask

Maybe I should start merrily maskless to motivate others to move away, sort of motivate them, test their mettle,meaning, through some marvel thatthey (and I) could be more mindfulas we move through each day, a miraclewe don't share more. Mercy me,my muttering mission messesup this meditation. Do we merit more?More magic, more moms muttering:  to mask or masque, that is the question!A mask on Mona