Words and photos by Yvonne.

Friday, February 4, 2011

He Carved....

He carved his angel
and as each sliver
fell to the ground
like feathers of
soft down
he felt
at peace

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Wednesday, February 2, 2011


The icy somber tempest
on squares of window glass
create memories
of savoring Bordeaux.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Different colors

Can't bring to mind
all the different colors
sustain you in my soul.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Small Stones 25-30

Puddle ducks by the hundreds
web footed and in mass
sing their dawns chorus
in the freshwater shallows
of winter


The feathered tall blue hunter
wades with movements imperceptible
in his vigilant pursuit


 Sharp repeated taps
like Morse code
awaken me
my eyes open
and focus toward the sound
at my window
finding the little sparrow
who had scattered my dreams
...and I smile


Clouds float in a rose madder wash
and as the sun is setting
a hawk dives
and plays its part in the
amazing orchestra of nature


Large, round
awe-inspiring leaves
flat and unsinkable
landing fields for dragonflies
home to many
mud bottom pond dwellers


The dampness chills me
as the wispy tendrils of fog
seep in
Then a welcoming and gentle
Zephyr-like breeze
limits its presence

Small Stones 19-24

A fragile wildflower
grows from a split
in the silver-gray stone
its roots thriving happily


Ground soaking rain of late
set the silver gray ceniza abloom
with diminutive rose-purple flowers
saying thank you


The queen palm spreads its fronds
creating a lacy and delicate shade
bestowing the harsh landscape below
with a bit of enchantment.


Morning light and shadows
becoming whimsically elongated
then leisurely withdraws
the enchantment of reflection
as the day progresses


Jackrabbits hurrying along
following the illuminated
veined roadmaps of their ears
 to a warm location
before the sable darkness
comes and
erases the course


Sepia toned
subjects sitting properly
some standing unbent
dubious faces of the past
looking back at me

Small Stones 14-18

 Sun streaming into my window
introducing shadows of leaf shapes
opaque silhouettes that resemble
Japanese calligraphy

Soft fuzzy heads
of purple fountain grass
dance in the gentle winds
swaying back and forth
the full wolf moon
and me

Soaring from broken woodlands
to summits of oak trees
scanning the world below
the Cooper's Hawk
finds it's ultimate perch and
adorns the top of the telephone pole
that leans into lost voices

Taking pleasure in the sunshine
the banana tree unfurls
stretches its large leaves
out into the world
looking at the birds
and the rose colored clouds
that sail above it at dawn

dark obsidian sky
broken only by
a handful of
dotted with twinkle

Small Stones 10-13

Tiny chapel
shelters gravesite and
candlelit altar
which holds
handwritten testaments
of faith
and gratitude.

Worn splints
and crutches,
pain and sorrow
stay behind...
now just castaways.


Savoring the slightly sweet liquid...
rich, with a slight taste of
mulberry, spice
and smooth vanilla,
watching the beads
roll transparent
down my glass.

Like some leafy creature,
exotic and large,
the philodendron's arms
safeguard a small
and timid creature
underneath its 
green and
somber veil.

Fog rolls serenely in,
and the misty lunar light
becomes radiant
while the quietude and stillness
seem to unearth my soul.

Small Stones 5-9

Noble live oak,
winter green and full,
acorns have fallen
to its base,
adorning the shadow quilt
of speckled light,
on saplings
wee and delicate.

Fox tail ferns
living a carefree life
in a front porch pot
with fronds extending
to welcome me home

Small mesquite residents,
sing their melodious birdsongs
teakettle teakettle teakettle
cheery cheery cheery
good morning reminders

Rain and thunder
interrupt my repose.
I gaze through my window
smiling at the
wet round drops
 collected in square holes
of the window screen.

Palm trees stand upright
 where the earth and sky meet
and create silhouettes
against a Prussian blue
almost night

Small Stones 1-4

Red tailed hawks
over my
vermillion horizon,
almost touching
the clouds
that float
in their cerulean wash.

Salvia, sage, santolina
humbly obedient to rains kiss
their sharp, pleasant smells
rising under the crescent moon

Wintertime windowsill
cultivating pelargoniums
sensual aroma
 to keep my thumb green

Sunlightrays of crimson red,
then honey gold,

create mesmerizing shadows...

to cheer me up this morning.