Autumn Morning

Autumn morning,

golden, delicious,

crisp as a ripe apple.

Rising sun

lifting a blanket of fog,

waking the world,

whispering secrets into the wind.

Listen.

Be still, and listen.

© Amy Porterfield 2021

Winter Wonders

I’ve been interested in photography as a hobby for a while now, but I have found it to be prohibitively expensive. So, several years ago my husband bought me some little lenses that stick on your phone’s camera. He found them on Groupon Goods for $7. You can read more about them here. The set came with a wide-angle lens and a fish-eye lens, but I have had the most fun with the little macro lens. We are having a real winter here for the first time in ages, and I was able to get up close and personal with some flurries.

We are expecting several more inches of snow over the next few days. This will be the biggest snow event we’ve seen since I was little, and I’m so excited for my kids to experience a “real” winter snow! Hopefully I’ll be able to get some good shots of the kids and the snow this week. Fingers crossed that we don’t lose power during all this. I made sure to get our bread and milk yesterday 🙂

Stay safe and warm, and enjoy the snow!

If I Were the Wind

In response to February Writing Prompts at Putting My Feet in the Dirt.

Photo by Nita on Pexels.com

If I were the wind,

I would tousle your hair,

caress your face,

and whisper in your ear.

I would lift ladies’ skirts

and snatch men’s hats

to make you laugh.

I would clear your cloudy skies,

keep your kite aloft,

but steal your balloon.

Love and loss are so intimately related.

I would lay flower petals,

seeds, and feathers at your feet.

I would lift your prayers to heaven.

And I would carry your scent,

and the echoes of your voice with me

forever and ever.

© Amy Porterfield 2021

Cathedral

“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.” From Sand and Foam, Kahlil Gibran, 1926

Step softly into this sacred space

Of prayers, whisper-soft

Carried on bird’s wings

To heaven, shining through leaves

Of stained glass.

Step softly into this cathedral

And walk into

The welcoming arms

Of God.

© Amy Porterfield 2020

Growing

I happened upon this tree while I was walking my dog and I was so struck by it. The tree has grown up through the fence, and now the fence is a part of the tree. I thought, well, it’s kind of like life, isn’t it? We don’t get to choose the circumstances into which we are born, or the obstacles and challenges we will face. But we were meant to grow through them. Our challenges make us who we are. They grow us into who we are meant to be.

That, and it also looks like the tree ate the fence.

om nom nom…

The Lesson of the Butterfly

I went walking

in the early hours of a day

of a dying summer,

and I happened across

a butterfly.

So beautiful and delicate,

the vivid black and yellow

of a tiger swallowtail,

fanning wings in the

early morning sun.

So struck was I

by its loveliness

that I almost didn’t notice

that it perched atop

a steaming pile

of dog shit.

And I thought to myself,

“I, too, have landed

in unfortunate circumstances,

either because of bad luck

or poor decision making,

but it was always up to me

how long I stayed there.”

The butterfly lingered

longer than I felt was appropriate,

only taking flight when

my dog went in for a sniff.

I walked away, disgusted,

acknowledging that

there is just no accounting

for taste.

Butterflies

Yellow butterflies

flutter on a summer breeze

Harbingers of Fall

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It’s the end of the summer and these yellow butterflies are everywhere. I did some reading and I learned that they are Yellow Sulfur or cloudless sulfur butterflies, and they are migrating. And they are damn hard to photograph.

Oooh, look! Here’s one!

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Ah! Here’s another!

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Look at this one!

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I finally managed to catch one in my dad’s azalea bush. So lovely…

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I think they overwinter in Florida. I’d like to go with them.

 

To the Fly in My Coffee

The cup, abandoned in haste

and left on the counter

for whatever reason

looked inviting to you.

I’m not sure when you decided

to take the plunge into the

abyss of my forgotten beverage,

but in the evening I found you,

floating face-down in a swirl of

sugar free vanilla creamer.

I can’t help but wonder

about your final moments.

Did you slip away quietly

as your breathing organs

(I’m unfamiliar with

house fly anatomy)

filled with cold, bitter liquid?

Or did your brain explode

inside your head and your extremities

begin flailing?

Because that’s what happens to me

when I drink my coffee

because I like it strong.

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