Wednesday, February 17, 2010

fenceline




on my walk home
in the early evening
i pass this old fenceline

weather worn and silvered wood
held together
by rusted wires

at its feet
sit streamworn boulders -
a glacier's gift.

an entanglement
of leafless maples
reach into
the slow-forming cloud
that is
the sun's last rays.

sometimes
as i pass this fenceline,
i am drawn into the eyes of a man
who once stood with his hands on these posts
looking south and then westward
across his fields.

he and i share
a similar wistfullness
at the sun's setting
as light and colour fade
before the night's
soft and dark silence.

in my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way i love them
you are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
my soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
in your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begin.

(italicized text) pablo neruda excerpted from in my sky at twilight

29 comments:

tattytiara said...

Beautiful. The green tones in that light are so riveting, too - especially against the soft blue snow.

Elisabeth said...

How amazing it is that your photos- the images you create - so match Pablo Neruda's words. He could have been looking at exactly the same scene.

Jenny Stevning said...

Yep...again...***************

Richard Jesse Watson said...

With your photos you have allowed us to drink gold through our eyes. Lovely. Thank you, Steven and Pablo.

Angelo azzurro said...

Romantic love poem, I love Neruda
Nice your photos!

NanU said...

There's something wonderful about walking in the snowy countryside in the late sun.

Lorenzo said...

Beautiful (once again). This should take the pejorative out of "straddling the fence".

steven said...

hello tattytiara!!! i noticed the green glow - almost an orb - when i upped this images and it intrigues me also. this time of year i'll take green in any form it chooses! have a peaceful day. steven

steven said...

elisabeth - now that would be something!!! to stand side-by-side with someone so extraordinarily talented - i wonder what we would talk about? have a lovely day. steven

steven said...

hello jenny - thankyou for the stars!!! steven

steven said...

hi richard!!! with the sun getting higher earlier in the day and staying higher later in the day, the quality of light and the range of colours i am seeing is gradually changing. absence makes the heart grow fonder and so i am grateful for the light and colour. steven

steven said...

hello angelo - i'm also an admirer of neruda's writing. thanks for visiting. steven

steven said...

nanu - that's very true, especially in the wintertime but then also in the depths of summer - something i'm thinking about more and more each day!!! steven

steven said...

lorenzo that's funny!!! true also - i hope!! steven

Barry said...

The photos are lush and warm despite the snow, Steven. Exceptional.

steven said...

well barry, you know what kind of winter we;ve had. this is old snow - it's stayed here for quite some time with only the slightest tickle to add to it. we had a bout a centimetre last night to freshen the edges but really it's been a bit like a winter desert 'round here. however, as i mentionedabove, i'm loving the return of the sun and the colours that come from that return!! have a peaceful day - tomorrow looks like it's going to get a bit loud and wild!!!! steven

Bonnie, Original Art Studio said...

You have a gift, steven, for finding the extraordinary in the ordinary - both in your prose and photographs. Of late, I find a peace emanating from your posts that is quite palpable.

I love old farm fences, btw.

Golden West said...

The fence is so weathered, it makes one wonder how long it has stood.

Abe Lincoln said...

I must say this piece of writing smacked me between the eyes like a sledge hammer. I am so fond of fence rows and seeing one is really like finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I do want you to take a picture of this in the springtime and again in early to mid summer. I want to savor the sense of belonging and feast on the photos for a while.

I can't begin to tell you how many times I look for a fence row picture and never find one. I make myself promises to take pictures of old fence rows like your fence row and never do it because there are none around here. All were bulldozed out and now corn grows where the groundhogs used to raise their families and rabbits kept burrows and screech owls hunted mice. All gone.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Steven - I have said this before, but I will say it again - how I envy you that walk home.

Kay said...

Just love ricketty old fences and rusty wire.....the poem is pretty wonderful too!! xx

Reya Mellicker said...

I'm always surprised, at the end of your posts, when the poem you've chosen turns out to be written by someone else. Wow. I think you always choose the right poem.

The images are beautiful. The light is so gold. Here it stays silvery until June or July.

Enjoy your golden sunsets, Steven!

Linda Sue said...

Intriguing how you stepped into the past to view from the farmer's eyes as he looked over the land. More Steven majic!

steven said...

bonnie thankyou. i work in a hectic, high-stress environment - teaching - and it's important to use the tools i've learned through my life to manage that well so that it doesn't affect me, my family, or my students and colleagues negatively. so i look for and celebrate the simple for the deep beauty it contains. i am so glad you like to visit here and that you are so kind in expressing your appreciation. steven

steven said...

golden west - i'm not sure i can answer that although the farms in the neighbourhood have been here for some time. they are quite old and lovely in their fairly well-maintained decay. steven

nollyposh said...

Oh mi that was so ~beautiful~

stunted male said...

thought-provoking. the image of the trees is compelling.

steven said...

well thankyou nolly!!! steven

Jennifer said...

Steven, your descriptions are so colorful. I have felt that way on my walks when looking at the stone walls, looking around as if I were there 200 years ago.