Swallows in May

Not too much longer now
They will leave this place
For northern climes

This May has been extraordinarily busy for me. I made only my second entry of photographic work for the month last night.
That will change, like the coming and going of the swallows.

After a few hectic weeks, it felt good to let the sound of the river cover me while I mused at the whimsy of these little birds.

See the Wind

Carry the words
Of innumerable souls
Across the valley
Onto the mountain tops

The plankton
Of solid terrain

Move across my face
Its creases
Your intimate friend

I know you love me
Your cool hands
Penetrate my coat
And cover me
With stories
From other lands

Simplicity

Walking away from expectations
Into nature’s wooded balm
She holds me up, without grip
Tells me to stop a moment
And listen

Symphonic voices
Call my name
From within places unseen
Songs of joy
Reminding me
Of the splendors I’ve missed that day

I send a whistle
And all songs are silenced
There, just beyond the thicket
A choral member
Jumps to within view
Then another.

Eyes meet briefly
The chorus resumes
And I become a believer
The song of a single bird
Is more worthy
Than a room full of gold

Bridges

It’s an intestinal thing
Guts telling me what is what
Surveying the landscape
Pairs are everywhere

In the air
On the ground
Then

A single shadow
Falls
As tall as a eucalyptus

The dreaded pang
Grips the soul
Compassion-less
Without conscience
Or intent
It just is

Perception triggers chemicals
Small voices speak
You are
Lonely
“You are.”
A most horrible, immutable declaration?

Over the chasm
Balanced on the taught line
My love for being alone
Staying focused, on the line
And becoming lonely,
Falling headlong
Into the chasm

Over the last several years it has become apparent that I have some sort of focusing “disorder”, although fully functional in the work environment. But when my time is my own, I go to multiple expressive outlets for peace and self-understanding. This “syndrome” requires “plate spinning” when it comes to important relationships.
To walk away from these expressive outlets leaves me unfulfilled. But to lose someone I love dearly to these addictions would be a fate worse than death.
So, a wide view and awareness is always required.
Nothing is more valuable than when someone says “I love you” or “let’s do something together”.



Ordered Chaos

I might be too old to write about the birds and the bees. That’s alright. I went ahead and added some music and video just to confirm what I already knew. It’s the little things that make life interesting. I wrote a poem for this project, forgot about it, then wrote another one with a slightly different perspective. They’re both here:

“Ordered Chaos”

We are obsessively enslaved
To our own sense of place and order
Every room has a function
Every place, a purpose

Rarely do we consider
The genius of nature’s chaos

Song sparrows
Sing for a mate
And in the same spot
A rabbit is torn
Limb from limb
To feed a coyote

In that same spot
Sweet pea feeds a hungry bee
In symbiotic friendship

Grass dies quickly
Tree claims victory,
Sleeps during the cold months
And again fights
Grass’ resurrection in the spring

We see disorder
Because we are blind
To what real order can be
We are disruptions to harmony

Listen to the song
Join the chorus

Birds called to me
Singing songs of lifted joy
“You must have seen her!
This path
Of long lost journeys.

Her beautiful legs
Now brightly adorned
In skirted magic
All aglow in purple
And yellow
Brighter than the sun.

Even the bees
Can’t escape
Her seductive sweetness
Drawn to her
Unknowingly,
Hopelessly hypnotized.

Have you ever seen
Such full, thick trim?
Stroked
By gentle breezes
Braided
By fiddle-necks and mustard

Everything
Is drawn to her now.
Everything
Even you.
You have no answer for it
Neither have you the will
To fight away
Her calling”

The Video:

Ordered Chaos from Mark Wade on Vimeo.



RED CHANGES

Red were those evenings
That year was to be extraordinary
Although, being my first
I had no idea
And to this day
Everything has changed

It was 2009, or maybe 2008. Not sure any more, and it really doesn’t matter. I could position myself north of our little lake and wait for the ducks to fly in. It occurred like clockwork for many days. The sun would have fallen and I would stand in the shadows making multiple exposure dreamscapes with these fast flyers. What a rush.
I have tried many times to recreate that scenario only to wait in total futility.