Pining for Finland

Brown Bear painting by Brenda Davis Harsham

Brown bear, brown bear,
what do you see?
Reindeer herds or
Santa in Rovaniemi?

May to August,
the midnight sun lights Lapland.
Under that luminous sky,
the Sámi teach that all
beings and objects have souls.
Paintings, pottery,
dolls and blankets have stories.
A Sámi kota is a circular tent,
a place for visions and healing.

Brown bear, brown bear,
what do you see?
A Lake Saimaa seal,
cut off from the sea?

Long winer nights are
lit by aurora borealis,
heaven’s fireworks,
the celestial dragon.
If we listen,
what will we hear?

Notes: Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? is a classic children’s book written by Bill Martin, Jr. and illustrated by Eric Carle. I pay homage here to a book my kids love, and I reread so many times it feels part of my DNA.

I’ve seen a rise in visitors from Finland, and I wanted to learn more about it. Finland’s cities of light are dwarfed by its vast wilderness near the arctic circle. In between Sweden and Russia, Finland flies its cross-of-blue flag over lakes, mountains, forests, rocky inlets, migrating birds and northern lights. It’s a place of magic, with trees frozen like trolls, glass igloos and brown bear roaming free.

The painting is a watercolor of mine from twenty years ago, tweaked by iPhoto.

Heaven in a Wild Flower

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This cold, blustery day, I dream
into being another spring day.
This one is mountain-flavored,
nearer to heaven than the sea,
far away from here, far from me.
A mountain meadow blooms
as far as my eye can see:
pink heads nod their approval,
as if they like what they see.
I’m atilt, upright on this slope,
keeping my feet, holding out hope.
Pollen coats my skin in gold dust
and I run as lightly as a wind gust.
I lift my arms to the sky,
I’m not a gazelle, but I can fly!
l reach the dim of the tree line,
and each leaf sings harmony with me.
Part of me dwells there, in that perfect hour
when spring is eternal: sweet, soft air and
cool breezes. Infinite beauty. Birds sing,
deer graze and rabbits nod to the grass.
The scent of wildflowers is heaven.
Heaven is in our memories.

Note: The title is from a quatrain that has been niggling at the corners of my attention all week. I decided to embrace it, celebrate it. This is the first of two posts about it. Do you know it already? It’s this one:

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.” 

William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

Spring Dreaming

Cherry blossoms

close dreaming eyes
fragrance of cherry blossoms
intoxicates, breathe

Note: Dreams are magic. I dreamed spring into being today as I soaked up the lemon winter sun. The park may have been wet with snowmelt and smelling of mud but I was remembering cherry blossoms.

Spun Sugar Trees

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spun sugar trees
limbs bent to the knees,
white with delight

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Notes:

This is a rhyming haiku.
It’s something to do.
Want to try one, too?

Poetry Friday with kids

Happy Valentine’s Day and welcome to Poetry Friday, this week hosted thanks to Kimberley Moran at Written Reflections.

Dryad’s Eye

Thick oak in winter, trees brown and curled, with power lines running alongside, and the twisted trunk makes an eye

Sky gray as grave wrappings,
day dawns with the sullens.
Sodden leaf mold mingles
with the scent of coming snow.
Silent crows are drenched and dismal,
staring into the storm’s eye.
Oak leaves, brown and wilted,
make a damp chatter, as if they gossip.
Even the dryad shivers,
lissome and fair but cold in there.
She turns a shoulder to the icy wind
and hoodwinks the honest earth
into seeing a magic eye appear
gathering the light, shedding no tear.
The luminous gaze falls on the smallest
child, hopeful of seeing the first
snowflake spiral like a fallen star.
No frown can stay down in
the presence of wonder and hope.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A dryad is a nymph or goddess of a tree, often an oak. I make reference to a Sylvia Plath poem, On the Difficulty of Conjuring Up a Dryad, in which conjuring, Plath fails. Her “tree stays tree” no matter how she wrenches “obstinate bark and trunk/ To [her] sweet will”. Is she disappointed or triumphant when “no luminous shape/ Steps out radiant in limb, eye, lip,/ To hoodwink the honest earth which pointblank/ Spurns such fiction/ As nymphs”? She then observes that her cold vision “will have no counterfeit/ Palmed off on it.”  My imagination is of a different sort than hers today. Where my eye scans, I see magic. May you have a magical day.

Dragon Song

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Be careful in the New Year
for if you listen to dragon song,
you might find yourself burning.
You might need to fly and dance
or hear magic in the stars.
You might believe in kindness
and find friends in new places.
The crescendo casts a spell that
will make fortunes rise and set
love spinning like dust devils.
Be careful to keep your feet
solidly on the ground,
or you might hear fairy bells,
float over meadows, shake
hands with poppies, only to be
tickled by delphinium.
Dragons and fairies must be kept
in their place, in the toy chest,
lest the world tilt crazily.
Let others be dizzy with magic
or you might have to rethink
everything in your life.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: Happy New Year! 2016 is coming! I snapped the sea dragon photo at the New England Aquarium. If you’d like a dragon fairy tale, I offer the ice castle world of the Dragon and the Phoenix. We are busy frosting gingerbread trains, rolling beeswax candles and making lego Christmas trees. Enchiladas verdes and chilaquiles rojos are bubbling fragrantly in my oven, filling the whole house with the magic of cheese, turkey, tortillas and salsa. Wishing you joy, comfort, hugs and warmth!

Fish Grin

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Blue fish grins.
His scales gleam with
labyrinthine markings.
Perhaps lady fish
get lost, tracing their
path through the bends.
His charm bewilders
and intrigues, and we stare
at each other through
the ocean tank glass.
Close, but not connecting.
Near, but breathing
different elements.
Each puzzled by the other.
His liquid gaze and citrine eye
as mysterious and fleeting
as a golden leaf on a tree.
What does the leaf remember,
hanging there for one last day?
What does the fish see?
A swish of his tail and
he’s gone. A cypher,
a code of the universe,
a mystery to contemplate.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: I’m surrounded by swirls of wrapping paper, twinkling lights and the smell of brownies. I’m planning to make brownie Christmas tree cookies. If they turn out well, I’ll put up a picture. And my husband just bought girl scout cookies. I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend!

Aglow

Smoke bush

Aglow with new growth,
Aglow with joy,
Blood to pump
and thoughts to run,
toward the sky, afloat,
on high.
This is life,
in all its ups and downs,
magic pulsing,
sick then well,
in pain then resting.
Thanks for my breath,
free of pain,
thanks for sunshine,
warm on my skin,
for hugs from my kin and
another day to begin.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: I’ve recovering well from the surgery, and I feel the poetry coursing in my veins again. I hope the magic finds you, lifts you and makes your heart and imagination soar. XOXO, Brenda

Cider Sweet

Apple tree

In the green dappled shade, beneath
a cider-smelling apple tree,
is earth magic.
A white blossom in spring swells to
a tiny, green fruit in July:
summer magic.
I pull down the autumn-red fruit, and
its tart-sweet crunch in my teeth
is apple magic.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: The SCBWI conference was an inspiration and confirmed for me that I’m on the right path. My crazy fits with their crazy. 🙂 My surgery is in the morning, so it might be over before you even read this. Halleluja, may the worrying be past and the healing begun. Soon, I’ll be having more fun! Meanwhile, I have a bowl of sun-sweet Macintosh apples. XOXO Brenda

Magic Mirror

Sky reflected in wetlands

“Mirror, Mirror, shining bright,
in that river to my right,
who’s the fairest in the land?”
River winked at Meadowland:
“You are, fairest lady Sky,
“whether you are wet or dry.”

“Best to keep her happy, dear,
else we’ll dry to dust this year,”
Meadowland agreed with River.
Then Cherry Tree gave a shiver:
“Silence, she might hear you, fools,
you know it’s Lady Sky that rules.”

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Vermont Twilight

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Fairies dance and twinkle,
mixing with fireflies.
Lilac skies reach toward
lavender lakes.
Goldenrod nods
farewell to the sun.
Mountains darken
and trees disappear in
the dimming light.
Still the dragonflies hum.
Children seek the first star,
the first wish.
They believe in magic.

Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham

Dragons in Trees

Find dragons in trees, fairies in running brooks,
Dwarves in stones and magic in everything.

— Brenda Davis Harsham

Lost River Gorge

Note: My quote is a baldfaced repurposing of an older quote: “Finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks,/ Sermons in stones, and good in everything.” Can you guess who it is? William Shakespeare from As You Like It.  It reminds me of C.S. Lewis, though.