Nature

Pilgrimage Over the Seas

lillian16 Comments

Forty days, forty nights,
escapist pleasure journey.
Biblical allusion not intended.
Worm of guilt
bored occasionally into mind.
Guilt of the privileged sort.

News cycle ignored.
Earth’s scenery, our view of choice.
Oceanic patterns, lulling waves.
Occasional roiling seas
cause drunken-like weaving
walking ship’s corridors.

Icelandic land of fire and ice,
revealed its secrets
in midst of deep rift.
Two tectonic plates still shift.

Greenland’s hospitable coast
contrasted with glaciers and ice sheet.
Cold shoulders in the distance,
flaunt their daunting interior.

Bay of Fundy’s highest tides
reveal Nature’s pummeling forces.
Ocean’s height belligerently batters
river’s flow in opposite direction.

Maine’s light houses,
generational directional beacons.
Nova Scotia’s history laid bare
in Gaelic village of yore.

Forty days and forty nights,
pilgrimage complete.
Domestic work claims attention,
simplistic refreshing of our abode.
More difficult November task,  
refreshing our country as well.


Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Bjorn asks us to write a poem dealing with a pilgrimage of sorts. Poem and all photos refer to and taken on our recent 40 days and 40 nights trip that included Iceland, Greenland, going above the Arctic Circle, Nova Scotia, New Foundland, Bay of Fundy, Quebec City, and Maine. Incredible scenery….incredible to be away and appreciate the land and so many diverse people.

Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia

lillian9 Comments

In the midst of strife and stress
I find myself traveling the world,
seeking nature’s quiet views.
Balm for my soul.

Standing far above the sea
I walk slowly beside hand hewn fences
near centuries old barn.
My steps saunter in times gone by.

Wild golden glow blooms brightly
amidst tall grasses swaying in breeze.
White spruce stand tall
framing views of Bras d’or Lake.

Photos to peruse later
insure Cape Breton stays with me.
This peaceful place shall always be
only a journal page away.




All photos taken yesterday, September 9, as we walked the grounds of Highland Village, a historical Gaelic village on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia.

Through the late 18th and early 19th centuries, thousands of Gaels settled eastern Nova Scotia in patterns of chain immigration. Most of those immigrants spoke Gaelic, a Celtic language closely related to Irish. Despite a rigorous climate and landscape, Scottish Gaels adopted to life in Nova Scotia. In this place, we go back in time, and walk through their history.

From the Land of Fire and Ice

lillian2 Comments

Earth dons her ethereal pashmina,
mountains veiled in wispy cloud shawl.
She flirts with visitors. Stretches long
until her peaks come into view.

She wears her scars proudly.
Layer upon layer of lava flows,
like a mother’s birthing bracelet.
Her magnificence unmatched.

She testifies to our insignificance,
mere specks in the spectrum of time.

Photo above taken in Iceland this past week. The terrain in this “land of fire and ice” is incredible to see.

This photo taken on an excursion in better weather. Note the “layers” which indicate lava flows, millions of years old.

Sailing on a Tanka

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Agitated wake
churns up, roils ocean’s surface.
Then stretches into
gently glistened smaller waves,
like life’s long past memories.


Photo taken from aboard Celebrity’s Silhouette.

The Tanka form, when a Haiku just won’t do.

The haiku has 3 lines of the following syllabic content: 5 – 7 – 5
The tanka has 5 lines of the following syllabic content: 5 – 7 -5-7-7

Last Night at 9:30 PM . . .

lillian1 Comment

Addled scene.
Lingering sunset residual,
palest pink hazy clouds.

Grey rain clouds hover nearby.
Belligerent earlier,
dryly brooding now.

Wearing nature’s night cap,
fog topped buildings
tower over drizzled damp pavement.

Scattered bright office windows
tell-tale signs.
Duped or dedicated workers toil.

Green light,
twenty-four hour traffic cop.
Evidence the city never sleeps.


Photo taken from our Uber ride home last night after seeing the fabulous play, Eureka Day. Boston’s changing scene.

Summer Fare

lillian17 Comments

Summer’s peach, sensory delight.
Fingers leave light impressions
on delectably ripe fruit
blushing to the touch.
Peach skin’s palette presents palest reds
blurring into sunset shades of lightest orange,
blending into golden yellow.
All these shades, a gentle swirl of color
so appealing to the eye.

One bite and juice dribbles down the chin.
Moisture stains fruit’s soft velvety surface
where our mouth has been.
Colors remain the same
on dry intact outside of fruit.
Inside colors brighter than outside.
Pinkish bronzed red merges into
lemon and orange sherbet shades,
temptation for another taste.
Summer’s peach,
visual and sustenance delight.

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting, asking folks to write a “colorful” poem. No required length, form or rhyme scheme. Only requirement is that it must include colors! Images from Pixabay.com

I Remind Myself . . .

lillian2 Comments

Goodness blooms this time of year.
Pushy crocus show off first
then tulips admire daffodil ruffles,
hyacinths invoke delicious inhales.
Trees begin to dress for the occasion.
Don magnolia flowers, cherry blossoms,
crab apple trees defy their name.
We shed coats, walk more sure-footed
on warming sidewalks and greening lawns.
Infants’ arms wave more freely,
cumbersome snowsuit padding gone.
Robins appear, geese begin to nest.
Mountains’ winter toppings melt,
cascade in waterfalls to brooks below.
Streams rush over rocks,
gurgling their spring symphony.
And I, I smile as I step outdoors
reveling in another year of life.

Tussie Mussie Life

lillian54 Comments

She bloomed in every setting.
Rose patterned everyday dresses,
cherry cheerful flannel pajamas,
fruit speckled summer skirts.
Wisteriaed wall paper
wooed her to sleep each night.
Bougainvillea borders
bedecked her breakfast nook.
She lived up to her name,
Lily lived a lovely cheerful life.


Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today I’m hosting at the pub and asking folks to write a Quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words, sans title) that includes the word “bloom” or a form of the word.

Image: Hopie in the Garden, painted in 2021 by Hilary Pecis, on display at Boston’s Museum of Fine art in their Framing Nature: Gardens and Imagination exhibit.

Explanation of Tussie Mussie: During Queen Victoria’s reign (1837 – 1901) a small bouquet of flowers called a tussie mussie was a common accessory. Flowers were considered more modest adornment than jewelry for young women.