My Old Boat 

So much of our lives
We take for granted
What used to be thrilling
Slowly becomes mundane
Even neglected
My old boat
Is not the fastest
And her beauty
Has been surpassed
By newer models
On the lake
But there are moments
When the water is still
And the sun casts
Its last rays
In colorful hues
Across the water
I grab the throttle
Throw it down hard
To feel that power
Her surge forward
The wet joy
Once again

Words and image by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2017

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Will Always Be

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Spirit, you are here
I have waited so many lifetimes
Transform me finally
So that our union
Will always
Be

Words by The Bison in the Woods (c) 2017.  I did not take the picture (by Jeff Richter), but indeed I had an albino deer, just like this one, that lived near my studio for almost ten years.  I would see him and immediately felt his magic.

Seven – by Jacob Ilrag

Jacob is such a talented writer at eyes + words and he occasionally writes pieces that are in my genre.  I felt this piece by him really resonated and the scene of the woman at the lake was so very familiar.

Written by Jacob Ibrag Standing still upon a wet stone in the lake behind the cabin, she closed her eyes and began to count to seven. ‘Four, five, six,’ struggling to push the last number out of her lips, she turned around and was met with his worried expression. ‘What are you doing all the […]

via Seven — eyes + words