NOTE: Here is a double posting from two very talented contemporaries. Diane Mattis, a photographer who captures flowers with great artistry and Mary Lou Meyers, a published poet/writer who has won awards for her poetry. I feel these two women are “gifts” in my life and want to share their talents on my website. They both have a strong love for Mother Nature. The first is an update on Diane’s booth at an arts and craft fair here in PA with dates she will there. The second is a poem from my classmate Mary Lou Meyers.
Diane’s booth at the craft fair from a previous year
Here is the information for seeing Diane’s work, but you might also enjoy going directly to the North Star Orchard website to see all of the wonderful things they sell and the events that they produce for the community.Website: northstarorchard.comAddress: 3232 Limestone Road (This is also Route 10.)
Cochranville, PA 19330Phone: 484-502-7360Dates and Hours: Thursdays through Sundays, 10AM to 5PMAugust 5th through August 8thAugust 12th through August 15thAugust 19th through August 22nd, closing dayDiane will not be there every day of the show, but expects to be there on Opening Day, August 5th, and again for Meet the Artist on Saturday, August 7th from 10-3. Then again on the 14th or 15th, and on August 19th, and closing day, August 22nd.There is no admission, but please note there is a short flight of stairsto climb in order to see the art.Contact Diane via email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Here is a recent photo by Diane. For more photos, put Diane’s name in my SEARCH box for my postings of her work.
Mary Lou is not only my classmate from Douglass College, but also also my virtual poet-in-residence. The ocean is such an important part of climate change that I thought this poem would be perfect for a posting.
Thanx, Mary Lou.
P.S. Photo from the Internet.
P.S. Photo from the Internet.
Luminosity by Mary Lou Meyers from her book, Floating Free published by Author House
Thesand caressed by ocean waves,
mind drifts and plays in lazy waves,
back to the rhythm of life again,
magnified at the water line.
High rollers driven by moon and wind,
crashing through the shrouded veil,
giving way to our ponderous presence,
yielding to each footprint we make,
tracing, erasing, forever undoing
what we though was done,
all the while struggling for balance,
trying to gain a foothold in the sifting sand.
Our lives are circumscribed
like chromatic sediment settling in a dome.
Shape-shifters, lives sandwiched by the tide,
even our sand castle enterprise,
uncovered, revealing hidden luminosity,
bare bones of shells bleached by the sun,
leaving their intricate patterned whorls undone.
(evolutionary genocide prevails),
expelled pearls and diamonds on the shoreline,
iridescent glass mirror of our fleeting likeness,
markers from afar magnetized by the stars.
Let us be as the moon shell spiraling
back to the self, our raw beginnings,
complete in our fetal positioning.
Though we often delude ourselves,
gravitate toward others, longing, giving, forgiving,
like the hermit crab scribing its presence in its new home,
aloneness is imbedded in our bones.
Like silver gulls, we stare at our reflection
in the sheen of the wet sand.
Impenetrable we remain.
How easily we lose our grip as the ocean strips us.
Is there something we can take from breakers
whittling its treasures into shape?
Shattered rainbows are born from the spray
where waves are torn asunder.
Our lives forever emptying, flotsam and debris,
open arms awaiting the ocean’s embrace,
rinsed clean, restored to its energy,
forever weaving its magic spell of renewal.
The double sunrise shell is our surprise,
hinged like the wings of a butterfly,
fragile perfection internalized.
It represents the outer image and inner soul,
perfectly matched and in control,
how few remain whole.
We take with us the conch shell,
once trumpet of the Tritons,
now siren, indelible witness,
the look, smell, and sound of the sea,
forever a part of our solitary existence,
part of the mystery.