Monday, October 30, 2006

Too close to call

Moveon.org has been on my favorites list for the last few years. I support their attempts to communicate with legislators to bring about positive change in Washington. I hope you will join me in making phone calls to effect change. I call from Australia to America so I realize the cost of these calls..but such a small investment takes us much closer to a democracy that reflects the positions of more Americans.

I do realize this note is a tad vanilla and not up to my usual rantings..but I do want to encourage as many of us as possible to take part...

ciao..Dorothy
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Thursday, October 26, 2006

Trekking in New Zealand

New Zealand Track

Clouds bolt across blue skies,
Alder trees shimmer in the wind,
Twisting, the track follows the long fiords of Te Anou.

Fern filled beech forests
-----------------escallop edges of aquamarine rivulets
------------------------------------snaking in the red
--------------------------tufted meadows.

Ridge lines of Red Beech cling to steep walls rising from the Sound.

Massive water falls skim the tops of
--------------------hanging valleys,
------- sweep over towering glacial faces, and
---- ----------------------------------plunge,
------ ---------- ------------ -----------raucous
-------- ---------- ------------ over ferocious walls

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Meadows

Meadows
Green script on brown papyrus soil
translation impossible
patterns older than human letters,
Meadows create art everywhere.

High Sierra duff
meadow of brown pine needles
softens foot fall at 10,000 feet.

Tuolumne grasses
peppered with stark blues, red, yellows, oranges;
wildflowers
floating above spring snowmelt.

Utah meadows
filtering sunlit red rock monoliths
sparse sage, salt bush, tenuous desert cement
winds sweep stunning sunsets

Is there a meadow I love best?

Potted with clear blue lakes,
Ponderosa and white pine filigree,
CottonWood Meadow
home of wandering dragons
protecting meadows everywhere.

Meadows of the mind,
relaxing, verdant moments
stepping round the hillocks of color,
unfiltered common space
in the collective unconscious
meadows of reverie.