stop

zion. november 2009.

looking down

zion valley floor, from angel's landing. november 2009.

canyonland dusk

bryce canyon. november 2009.

the pattern on the rim

san francisco. july 2010.

some really good soup.

heavy sky

san francisco. june, 2011.

boat races in the rain. one of those days that starts off greyish and then starts to pour on you. miserable, and yet fun. certainly glad to be a spectator, but it made me miss crew nonetheless.

oaks

west of red bluff. july, 2011.

moving fast past a still life. my favorite road, to camp.

lampshade

san francisco. august 2011.

i just invited 90 people to my 30th birthday. oh boy.

on a cruise ship

fort mason, sf. august 2011.

riding home after a silly movie with friends. dressed up for no reason other than it's fun. a red plaid dress, a red ribbon in my hair. ...i think i'll wear a skirt tomorrow, even with the morning fog.

love,
arly

pulling that kite behind you

milan. may, 2006.

table and branches, bones

sonoma, ca. february 2009.

the bay, below

marin headlands. july 2011.

into the dark abyss

marin headlands. july 2011.

an updated version of my last poem.
more to vance's style, i think.

When I awaken early

from the pre-dawn light

and reluctantly rise (before the rest),

I look at what surrounds me; 

I lay my eyes against objects simple and profound

and write a poem with my eyes and what they see. 

When backlit clouds prism rays into every shade;

When bare pine branches reach down

to frame sections of sky,

I am reminded that, although
there are no new words to use,
somehow each dawn is yet unthought.

When I awaken to the new day's light upon me,
I follow its caress
on rock and stream and branch;

I exist within a landscape of untouched woodland,
of hidden watersheds deep in the hills.
I face the dawn and shine my joy upon it.