Daily Note
Every day, a photograph, a poem. It’s 96° F in our neck of the woods– tolerable and fortunate. We are thankful. We did take a walk in Steamboat Rock State Park to walk to the edge of the water and wade a bit. The lake is filled by water from the Columbia River, so tends to be cold until about just now, since the river is fed by melting glaciers. It felt great standing in the water beneath the shade of some very old trees– cottonwood, poplar, and birch, mostly. A few Russian olives, locust, aspen, sycamore, and maples are scattered throughout the park. Some of the birch, poplar, and cottonwood are very old– some here before there was a park. I couldn’t help but take a picture of the history etched into the bark of an old birch tree, wondering about the professed loves’ couple-hood today. And so, a poem…
Poetry
Old Sparks
One wonders who and if,
Sheri Edwards
the names etched
now stretched
in the birch bark
are still together
returning
sometimes to touch
the spot
that sparked
the
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Poetry/Photography [See-Frame-Focus]
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I wonder, if I draw a line... 