My REAL creative pursuit today was filling up two bins with kindling and raking half the yard.  I live in a forest, raking the yard is futile but it makes me feel great.  Along the way I discovered two japanese red maple infants, volunteers, that belong to a momma tree that died over a decade ago – I assume they have been quietly growing.  Well they put on their wylde colors for display this fall and I saw them.

I also discovered that a big old oak is a “momma” oak.  The wound was from lightning that blew out my well several years back.  Look how she has healed:  she has healed her wounds and made herself beautiful!

But I am intrigued by the great response I got from yesterday’s tracking of creative lineage, so, not to miss a day this month, I offer another set.  These not spread out so much as yesterday.  Both were created in the late 90s.  Both are titled “Kiss the Frog So It Can Fly.”    The poem written 11/23/98.  The picture created in’96.  A bit of research shows I printed the poem for AEDM in 2011.

The picture:

This, by the way, is a self portrait:

The poem:

Kiss the Frog So It Can Fly

Everything begins like this:

energy meets potential; o-

vals like surprised mouths open

then close.  In the clean blue, things live

above and below the moon-fire

surface, some transforming from one

shape to another with no more

thought than moth and flame give each to

each.  Every tadpole knows how

life moves always towards itself

like a bright sun’s shadow, docile

but aware of latent power

in red skies, black stars, glittering

wings hovering above the sweet

scent of new blooming hyacinths.