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January 1, 2015

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Found Magic

Sunset-glowing mums
Cast an earthy magic
Over a vanilla day.
My blue mug steams,
The bitter scent of green tea
Mingling with honey’s sweetness.
The calendar suggests newness.
January First: a new morning,
A new chance, a new start, a new dream.
Frozen grass crunches underfoot and
The sky is blue, clear and cold.
My breath steams like my mug:
Superheated for a magical brew,
Making all things seem new.
I resolve to find magic,
In any small detail, new or old,
Find magic and learn to take hold.

Note: Happy New Year to all my friends!! These blooms are thanks to Trader Joe’s, a magical place.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 24, 2014

Posted under

Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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57 Comments

Gingerbread Joy

Snow lingers in spun-sugar drifts
On gingerbread houses: my spirits lift.
Such a colorful display of cake and candy
Makes the world seem sweet and dandy.
Even though holly bushes are snow-bare,
The winter season gives magic to share,
As children, near and far, laugh and play
Because Santa Claus can’t be far away!
Whether you feel reverence at a birth,
Or making kids happy brings you mirth,
May your days be full of surprises and joy,
Like a holly berry, saved for a fairy’s toy.

Merry Christmas!!

Note: This amazing gingerbread house was part of a display at Wilson Farms in Lexington, MA.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

December 8, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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45 Comments

Winter Goddess

Tiny snowflakes fall like stars.
Crystals twinkle on my boots,
Glowing with spun-sugar magic.
Jack Frost dances just out of sight,
Sending temperatures plummeting.
Infant-flakes lay cradled in russet leaves.
Snow flurries billow like the
Translucent skirts of a Winter Goddess.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

November 26, 2014

Posted under

Holiday, Photography

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30 Comments

Thankful

I’m thankful for the beauty in every season and for the words that flow from it.
I’m grateful to all of you, sharing your day with me, may your days be filled with magic!

Warmly,

Brenda

Note: Tomorrow is Thanksgiving here, a time to remember our blessings, appreciate the earth that gives them to us, and embrace our family and friends. Happy Thanksgiving!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 28, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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24 Comments

Besties

Best friends:
Together is magic.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 20, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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24 Comments

Bare Branches Bloom

Bare branches are stripped
By wind and rain,
Saffron leaves
Reveal:
Bloom.

Note: The syllable of this poem dwindle, just as the leaves fall.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

October 19, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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34 Comments

Gossamer Milkweed Etheree

Pods
Look like
Green gators,
Snapping at air,
Hungry mouths open,
Toothy grin spilling silk:
Brownies harvest, spin and weave
Gossamer Fairy Court dresses.
Milkweed’s a Monarch butterfly house:
Holds eggs and feeds baby caterpillars.

Note: This poem is an etheree, a form that starts with one syllable on the first line and increases to 10, one syllable per line.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

September 29, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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27 Comments

A Pine Tree Wakes

When I wake from my long dreaming,
I first look up at the sky.
Far above me, magic dances in white clouds.
Mother Oak holds me fast, in her roots.
Poetry is the movement of her leaves.
Far below me, the river sings its longing for the sea.

Rivulets sink toward the secret aqueduct far below,
The dark, watery womb of all life.
Some droplets rise to adorn cloud castles.
Singing waters plunge over falls,
Scenting the embrace of Lake Ontario.
Flocks of starlings bank and turn.

Wildflowers thirst, drink the spray,
And tremble on the cliffs.
The leaves feel the passing of the season,
As the water does not. As I do not.
We are constant, the water and the pine.
I hold fast to my cliff; I sink back into my dreams.

Note: These photographs were taken at Letchworth State Park, where the Genesee River has carved a deep canyon in its headlong rush to join Lake Ontario, the Easternmost Great Lake, that lies between the US and Canada.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 31, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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35 Comments

Sunset Charm

A magic charm,
A balm for the soul —
Just add one sunset to
The first star of the night,
Throw in a child’s laugh,
And a heart-felt wish.

Note: This sunset was in West Dennis, Massachusetts, on Cape Cod. I may not have had internet connectivity on my mini-break, but I had connections to the clouds, sunsets and stars. 🙂 I got home, and my internet connection is spotty, and loading webpages nearly impossible. I will try to visit you when we have solved this new problem. Have a wonderful week ahead, my friends.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 26, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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37 Comments

Secret Folk

Deep in the wildwood,
Beneath the green leaves,
Hide a welter of wee folk.
They play tricks, keep their secrets,
Hobnob with toads and kiss dragonflies.
Tuesdays, they take tea with an elderly dragon,
Nibbling hazelnut tarts and sunshine flan.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 18, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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28 Comments

Adventure: A Sunlit Path

The way was crisscrossed with roots and rocky.
Bellissa, the wood nymph, carefully tread
The sunlit path of shadow and dappled light.

Her ears were full of the music playing:
The symphony of green rustling leaves and
The decrescendo of the cicadas.

A crescendo of a dog’s barking by the shore
Caught her attention, and she hid in the silver birch.
The excited pup romped, shaking off an avalanche of drips.

She climbed toward a peak, leaving the shore behind,
The wind grew stiffer and the trees bent.
Ahead lay possibility, wonder and magic.

Always moving toward the next place,
Where imagination filled in the wood with secrets,
Caves, trolls, dragons, gnomes, friends and foe.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

August 17, 2014

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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68 Comments

Something Blue

Remember the magic:
When you look closely,
What was hidden
Is found.
Something small
Can give you wings.
What was sad
Can give you strength.
What stole your voice
Can make you sing.
Remember the magic.

This poem is dedicated to Ms. Vee, who is a fellow phoenix, a bird reborn from flames.