I have come to gaze

May 7

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DSC_0070
The remains of an old house near the shores of Willow Lake, Prescott, Arizona
 
 

I have come to gaze
on the clover and milkweed.
They are thick this month;
great drifts of leaves and stems
flare up
around the foundation
of the old farmhouse,
where something tiny
glitters on a stone.
The midday sun
is hot enough
to parch or melt
the thing that glitters,
and if it perishes,
who will keen for it?

 

Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #110
   
More Poetry Pantry #352 at Poets United

Posted on May 7, 2017, in Arizona, Poetry Pantry, Poets United, Prescott, Shadow Shot Sunday 2, Sunday's Whirligig and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 23 Comments.

  2. Jae Rose | May 7, 2017 at 6:28 am

    mourning for light is a wonderful idea

    Reply
  3. Rosemary Nissen-Wade | May 7, 2017 at 6:46 am

    Over time, your poems and photos are giving me a strong sense of the land where you live, and an appreciation of its unique beauty.

    Reply
  4. Sanaa Rizvi (@rizvi_sanaa) | May 7, 2017 at 7:00 am

    Who indeed. This is beautifully deep ❤️

    Reply
  6. Erin | May 7, 2017 at 7:39 am

    Who once lived there? Possibly they keen for it.

    Reply
  7. Keith's Ramblings | May 7, 2017 at 9:28 am

    Whilst it glitters the old farmhouse still lives. A poignant piece indeed.

    Click to visit Keith’s Ramblings!

    Reply
  8. Björn Rudberg (brudberg) | May 7, 2017 at 10:21 am

    I remember how soon it all went away in the desert… maybe we have to let it go and wait for the rain.

    Reply
  9. janicead | May 7, 2017 at 10:29 am

    This reminds me of a series of photos we have we call ‘somebody’s dreams’. The hopes, struggles and efforts that go into building a life often fade and crumble after the life passes. Your words are a beautiful take on the scene.

    Reply
  10. Sherry Marr9 | May 7, 2017 at 11:23 am

    I can see it all, the Milkwood, the old farmhouse, the thing that glitters. Beautiful.

    Reply
  11. ZQ | May 7, 2017 at 1:28 pm

    Best one so far …with existing Word theme floatin’ in the Pantry this week 🙂

    Reply
  12. Beverly Crawford | May 7, 2017 at 1:39 pm

    The remnants of old homesteads always make me wax poetic, wondering about the stories now long forgotten. Well written!

    Reply
  14. Myrna Rosa | May 7, 2017 at 3:57 pm

    Nice. I like the poetry you attach to a photo, the thoughts you express and the words you use. I like the question that you leave to linger.

    Reply
  15. Truedessa | May 7, 2017 at 5:25 pm

    All that glitters is not gold ~ I wonder who will remember the farmhouse and the stories within it’s frame.

    Reply
  16. 1sojournal | May 8, 2017 at 12:04 am

    Wonderful photo and words. Perhaps the glitter is a tear from the rock itself, remembering?

    Elizabeth

    https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2017/05/07/milkweed-ancestors/

    Reply
  17. oldegg | May 8, 2017 at 1:27 am

    Remembering is just for foolish humans when almost everything else look only to tomorrow.

    Reply
  18. Paula Scott Molokai Girl Studio | May 8, 2017 at 1:55 am

    Good question-who will?

    Reply
  19. annell4 | May 8, 2017 at 12:44 pm

    Wistful, I enjoyed reading.

    Reply
  20. Klara S | May 8, 2017 at 12:46 pm

    Remains of the the old houses always makes me sad 😦 however it’s a good capture …

    Reply
  21. kaykuala (@hankkaykuala) | May 8, 2017 at 11:08 pm

    The midday sun is hot enough
    to parch or melt the thing that glitters

    One will always expect nature to take its course. Though most often not many are bothered! Great observation MMT!

    Hank

    Reply
  22. Ron. | May 13, 2017 at 6:17 am

    I was looking for a way to “Like” this about a million times. Fantastic stuff (both photographic and poetic), Teach! THANKS.

    Reply
    • magicalmysticalteacher | May 13, 2017 at 6:42 am

      High praise! Thank you, Ron!

      On Sat, May 13, 2017 at 5:17 AM, Magical Mystical Teacher wrote:

      >

      Reply

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