Tag Archive | Nature

All is a miracle…






All is a miracle. The stupendous order of nature,
the revolution of a hundred millions of worlds around a million of stars,
the activity of light, the life of all animals, all are grand and perpetual miracles.
.
Francois Voltaire
.












Text & image source: Johanna von Bernus @ The Celestial Sanctum https://www.facebook.com/groups/celestialsanctum/

#PoeticThursday . . . The Magic in the Moment



The wind began to blow
And shook the trees
Heads turned up in unison
Witnessing a season of change

The leaves were freed from their branches
Floating and swinging through the air
Painting the sky with golden colors
Dancing their way to the ground

The wind blew again
And the trees shook
Whispers in the wind:
“It’s good luck to catch a leaf!”

Searching and turning
Arms opening wide
Hands held high
Watching the leaves dance in the sky

They swirled, turned and swept me
Off my feet
Dodging and scooping
The magic in the moment

By Danielle Spencer












Artist Wendy Edelson
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/











Equinox Blessings!




Happy Equinox my friend. May this Autumn Equinox bring us all
contentment by paying more attention to the gifts we already have.
May this season bring balance and harmony in our daily life & inner world!












Text & image source: Zaiad Hashash @ Planet Heaven https://www.facebook.com/PlanetHeaven1/











Joy is there everywhere.





‘Joy is everywhere; it is in the earth’s green covering of grass:
in the blue serenity of the sky: in the reckless exuberance of spring:
in the severe abstinence of grey winter: in the living flesh that animates
our bodily frame: in the perfect poise of the human figure, noble and upright:
in living, in the exercise of all our powers: in the acquisition of knowledge. . .
Joy is there everywhere.’

By Rabindranath Tagore.












Artist John Sloane
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/

๐—”๐˜‚๐˜๐˜‚๐—บ๐—ป ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐—ด๐—ถ๐—ป๐˜€ ๐˜„๐—ถ๐˜๐—ต ๐—ฎ ๐˜€๐˜‚๐—ฏ๐˜๐—น๐—ฒ ๐—ฐ๐—ต๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ด๐—ฒ ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—น๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜…



“๐—”๐˜‚๐˜๐˜‚๐—บ๐—ป ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐—ด๐—ถ๐—ป๐˜€ ๐˜„๐—ถ๐˜๐—ต ๐—ฎ ๐˜€๐˜‚๐—ฏ๐˜๐—น๐—ฒ ๐—ฐ๐—ต๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ด๐—ฒ ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—น๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜, ๐˜„๐—ถ๐˜๐—ต ๐˜€๐—ธ๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐˜€ ๐—ฎ ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ๐—ฒ๐—ฝ๐—ฒ๐—ฟ ๐—ฏ๐—น๐˜‚๐—ฒ,
๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ป๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ต๐˜๐˜€ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฎ๐˜ ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฒ ๐˜€๐˜‚๐—ฑ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—น๐˜† ๐—ฐ๐—น๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ฐ๐—ต๐—ถ๐—น๐—น๐—ฒ๐—ฑ. ๐—ง๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐˜€๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐˜€๐—ผ๐—ป ๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐˜€ ๐—ณ๐˜‚๐—น๐—น
๐˜„๐—ถ๐˜๐—ต ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ณ๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐˜€๐˜ ๐—ณ๐—ฟ๐—ผ๐˜€๐˜, ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ฑ๐—ถ๐˜€๐—ฎ๐—ฝ๐—ฝ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฐ๐—ฒ ๐—ผ๐—ณ ๐—บ๐—ถ๐—ด๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐˜ ๐—ฏ๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐—ฑ๐˜€, ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ต๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐˜ƒ๐—ฒ๐˜€๐˜๐—ถ๐—ป๐—ด
๐—ผ๐—ณ ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐˜€๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐˜€๐—ผ๐—ป’๐˜€ ๐—น๐—ฎ๐˜€๐˜ ๐—ฐ๐—ฟ๐—ผ๐—ฝ๐˜€.”

– ๐—š๐—น๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ป ๐—ช๐—ผ๐—น๐—ณ๐—ณ ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ฟ๐˜† ๐——๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ถ๐˜€












Text & image source: Luminous Spirit https://www.facebook.com/LuminousSpirit/

Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words.




” Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words.
They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty
of their character, though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning.”

~ Lydia M. Child












Text & image source: Harmony https://www.facebook.com/578149188866564/











…it knew…life was a gift……




………I hope……
……..I can be…
..the Autumn leaf..
…..who looked…
…….at the sky…
…….and lived….

…….And when……
……it was time….
………to leave……
……..gracefully……
……….it knew…..
……life was a gift……..

~Dodinsky~











Text & image source: Whispers https://www.facebook.com/108030962700575/











The Vixen.





Among the taller wood with ivy hung,
The old fox plays and dances round her young.
She snuffs and barks if any passes by
And swings her tail and turns prepared to fly.
The horseman hurries by, she bolts to see,
And turns agen, from danger never free.
If any stands she runs among the poles
And barks and snaps and drive them in the holes.
The shepherd sees them and the boy goes by
And gets a stick and progs the hole to try.
They get all still and lie in safety sure,
And out again when everythingโ€™s secure,
And start and snap at blackbirds bouncing by
To fight and catch the great white butterfly.

By John Clare.










Artist Bonnie Marris
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/











September!




September.

“The breezes tasteย 
Of apple peel.ย 
The air is fullย 
Of smells to feel-ย 
Ripe fruit, old footballs,ย 
Burning brush,ย 
New books, erasers,ย 
Chalk, and such.ย 
The bee, his hive,ย 
Well-honeyed hum,ย 
And Mother cutsย 
Chrysanthemums.ย 
Like plates washed cleanย 
With suds, the daysย 
Are polished withย 
A morning haze. ”ย 

By John Updike










Artist Jill Barklem
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/










Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard…






His beak could open a bottle,ย 
and his eyes – when he lifts their soft lids –
go on reading something
just beyond your shoulder –
Blake, maybe,ย 
or the Book of Revelation.

Never mind that he eats onlyย 
the black-smocked crickets,ย 
and the dragonflies if they happen
to be out late over the ponds, and of course
the occasional festal mouse.
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear –

itโ€™s not size but surge that tells us
when weโ€™re in touch with something real,ย 
and when I hear him in the orchard
fluttering
down the little aluminum
ladder of his scream –
when I see his wings open, like two black ferns,ย 

a flurry of palpitations
as cold as sleet
rackets across the marshlands
of my heart
like a wild spring day.

Somewhere in the universe,ย 
in the gallery of important things,ย 
the babyish owl, ruffled and rakish,ย 
sits on its pedestal.
Dear, dark dapple of plush!ย 
A message, reads the label,ย 
from that mysterious conglomerate:ย 
Oblivion and Co.
The hooked head stares
from its house of dark, feathery lace.
It could be a valentine.ย 

by Mary Oliver












Artist CYNTHIE FISHER
Text & image source: Snowwolfs Woodland Nook https://www.facebook.com/Snowwolfswoodlandnook/