Another Early Morning Sunrise; A Late Night Sunset

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October: Month of wellingtons and mackintoshes
Photography and Poetry

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“Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed” Walt Whitman

Another Early Morning Sunrise; A Late Night Sunset

 

Another Early Morning Sunrise

After the stormy weather and pouring rain
The sun came out to play again
The early October morning, day called Monday
It seems I can start calling it my fun day

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A Late Night Sunset

The eve was about to set
I was once again treated
With a another gorgeous sunset
Today, on this Monday
One of the last days of October

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World Wide Wednesday Presents: Finland, Espoo Suburbia

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“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it”
George A. Moore

World Wide Wednesday Presents: Finland, Espoo Suburbia

When you travel around the world, how many times upon return have you commented: “Well, that was fun, but home sweet home!”
Today a trip of a different kind
It’s surprising what you can find
When stepping, outside your door
Amazing, what beauty to score

The grass may be greener
On the other side of the fence
But sometimes you may be keener
To save a few more cents

Pick up the pace and lift your feet
Wander down your home street
The mundane soon turns to treasure
Leaving you with feelings of pleasure

So when not in Rome
Safe in home sweet home

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Leaves of October

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Poetry and Photography
Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

 

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“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance” Carl Sandburg

Leaves of October

The leaves of colour
Soon but shadows
Slowly fading away
In the October rain

Autumn leaves
Falling down
From the trees
On to the ground

The winds are soon
But a silent whisper
As the leaves bloom
Out of existence

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Sunny Days in October, Part Four

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October: Month of wellingtons and mackintoshes
Photography and poetry

 

“October is crisp days and cool nights, a time to curl up around the dancing flames and sink into a good book.”

Sunny Days in October, Part Four

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Sunny Days in October, Part Three

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October: Month of wellingtons and mackintoshes
Photography and poetry

 

“October is crisp days and cool nights, a time to curl up around the dancing flames and sink into a good book.”

Sunny Days in October, Part Three

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Sunny Days in October, Part Two

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October: Month of wellingtons and mackintoshes
Photography and poetry

 

“October is crisp days and cool nights, a time to curl up around the dancing flames and sink into a good book.”

Sunny Days in October, Part Two

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Sunny Days in October, Part One

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October: Month of wellingtons and mackintoshes
Photography and poetry

 

“October is crisp days and cool nights, a time to curl up around the dancing flames and sink into a good book.”

Sunny Days in October Part One

Rain, rain, rain
And some more rain
But, wait… what?
Today, no rain?

Surprisingly sunny
To the point of funny
The air soft and warm
I could have sworn
It was late summer
But oh bummer

I wasn’t grinning
Because,
It was the beginning
Of October

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September in Suburbia, Part Nine, Leaves

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Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

“Now Autumn’s fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt” William Allingham

September in Suburbia, Part Nine, Leaves

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September in Suburbia, Part Eight, Leaves

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Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

“Now Autumn’s fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt” William Allingham

September in Suburbia, Part Eight, Leaves

Leaves on the trees
Leaves on the ground
Even at my doorstep
Can they be found

Autumn’s foliage
Soon turning to dust
Still enough for joliage
And enjoy it I must

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September in Suburbia, Part Seven

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Poetry and Photography

Posted in response to The Clinic-Photo Rehab hosted by Lucile De Godoy

 

“With my middle-class metabolism, the suburbs were where I always wanted to be” Susan Isaacs

September in Suburbia, Part Seven

Night time in Suburbia
There is no time for hysteria
Streetlights the only spots of bright
Against the darkest of night
Sidewalks empty and quiet
A few signs marked private
Walking past the darkened windows
Occupants asleep, dreaming of tomorrow
The moon hiding behind clouds
No one to see, no one to watch
So, stepping on the grass is allowed
If I through away my crutch
Take a little chance
And do a little barefoot dance
In the middle of the night
On the streest of Suburbia

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