Snow yesterday, fire today

[averygoodun42]

Snow glides down,
light and airy,
sometimes harshly blown.
Without wind,
it blankets all,
muffling the world's sound.

Sparks spiral upward,
bright color,
contrast with the night.
Blowing in with pops and crackles,
chilling out, they die

Their commonality lies only
with their size
and the ephemeral character
of their beauty



I wasn't intending to write a poem. I just wanted to share the observation as I watched my dad's small slash fire burn against the pitch black background of the early night. Not perfect, and my mum helped make it more poem-like, but I'll keep it, I guess.

I almost pity people who never leave the city. The city and suburbs have their own beauty and elegant moments, but I do seem to find more visual pleasures in more natural surroundings.* I think that's why my muse likes it so much better here. Even if the land animals do tend to hide from me.

Hmph. My inner Thoreau is showing through. I s'pose I should read his work someday, eh? (am bad New Englander)


*Of course, I am obviously more a nature person than a people person. That's why it's only almost pitiable to never get out of town.

Now the question is, why did I train in portraiture if that's the case? =D

Comments

[zalena.livejournal.com]

I was driving 36 between Boulder and Lyons on a snowy day. Snow was falling and the previous week's snowfall was covering the foothills. The horizon was totally obscured by the clouds and snow, and the landforms were barely distinguishable, because it was approaching twilight and the diffuse light didn't create any contrasting shadows. But in the distance there was a smoke stack and I marveled at the difference in color, light, and behavior, between the smoke and the snow. It I could paint it, I would, but I can barely describe it. Seeing will have to be enough.

I'm guessing portraiture is a result of the resources available to you at the time. But then people are sometimes landscapes.

I have come to respect and admire Thoreau, but he is not easy to read. I think this is why his work is primarily administered via quotations. That being said, he did not really live all that separate from civilization himself. Walden Pond is not so far removed from Concord, and is in bicycling distance from Boston. I always thought Walden was a little lame considering the backdrop of Western Expansion; but then Thoreau was making do with what he had available, and that is what makes his message so important to us now.