30 November 2015

For about a week,
The moon modestly fading...
Always behind clouds.

30 November 2015

29 November 2015

Waking today to
Helicopters overhead,
I think of Kent State.

29 November 2015

28 November 2015

Rain keeps on falling,
Cold winds chill body and soul...
Winter is coming.

28 November 2015

27 November 2015

Colorado Springs...
A day ends in violence
A day ends in death,

27 November 2015

http://www.cnn.com/2015/11/27/us/colorado-shooting-probe/

25 November 2015

Everything changes...
We grow old.  Memories fade.
Only our love remains.

25 November 2015

23 November 2015

Beneath the maple,
A red carpet greets the day.
November morning.

23 November 2015
(This morning)

22 November 2015

After the first snow,
The shrubs are dressed for winter--
Red leaves trimmed in white.

22 November 2015
(Taken yesterday, about noon)

18 November 2015

Looking west, I see
The world as a silhouette
Against fiery skies.

18 November 2015
(Taken about 6:45 this evening.)

16 November 2015

"There's only one rule..."
Kurt Vonnegut wrote..."Be kind..."
We need kindness now.

16 November 2015

15 November 2015

Three in the morning,
Waiting  for sleep, and watching
The branches dancing.

15 November 2015

14 November 2014

The morning after...
We have counted the dead, and
We continue to mourn.

14 November 2015

13 November 2015

And, now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.


How do we find peace
In a world filled with hatred?
Not with more hatred.

13 November 2013

November 13, 2015. Paris

Bob Dylan wrote a song, probably in late 1962, probably partly in response to the Cuban missile crisis. That song is “Masters of War,” and here are the lyrics:

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes...
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
’Til I’m sure that you’re dead
http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs#ixzz3rQW5uHX2

The rage there has a history, and it has not gone away or ended. But the end of that rage is simply death. That is the frightening thing about the events today in France, about this song, about the world in which we live. The end of rage is not peace, not justice. It is simply death. Look at the final verse. There’s no hope there. There is only rage and death.

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
’Til I’m sure that you’re dead

There are times when I wish I had a belief in a god of peace and justice. But all the gods seem to be gods of war and hatred and death. And so I do not believe. I hope, but hope comes increasingly more difficult. And I do not hope for more deaths, but I’m afraid a lot of people out there will agree with Dylan:

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
’Til I’m sure that you’re dead

12 November 2015

Leaves dance in the wind,
And the wind tugs at my coat,
And the branches bend.

12 November 2015

8 November 2015

From the river, mist
Envelops the trees, ghost-like,
In early morning.

8 November 2015
(Taken about 7:30 this morning)

7 November 2015

Squirrels in the trees,
Scampering up, down, around,
Look set for winter.

7 November 2015

6 November 2015

Flaunting his color,
Enjoying the autumn sun--
The house cardinal.

6 November 2015
(Photograph taken this morning)

5 November 2015

Day-long showers, and
Red/yellow/brown leaves color
A small patch of dirt.

5 November 2015
(Photo takes about 9:30 PM)

 

3 November 2015

A  perfect fall day,
Sunny, warm, gentle breezes...
And election day.

3 November 2015

1 November 2015

Looking for a sign...
And November begins with
Sun and swirling leaves.

1 November 2015