Vignettes from Lutsen

Midnight sky filled with more stars than we’ve ever seen. Trapped in the city lights and pollution we see only the moon, a few planets, and a handful of stars. Here, we are treated to the vastness our home, this planet, swims within on its journey through the galaxy and universe.

Distant lights dancing in the early morning. Is that a ship? A lighthouse?

Columns of grey clouds hold up the morning sky as the sun appears.

The last sunset layers of long thin grey clouds and the subdued orange and purple.

The sea calms as night descends upon us and we retreat indoors to watch the sunset.

Every 2-seconds the lighthouse in Grand Marais, 7 miles away as the crow flies, passes our view.

We have seen no ships close to shore today. We last saw one 2-days ago.

With more time here, I learn the subtle voice of the sea, the movement of the animals, and the words spoken by the trees.

During the transition of day to night, trees grow taller reaching toward the sky free of shadows they consume the landscape until I become one with the night.

Poem – Merging Scenes

Evening clouds cross the open fields,
consuming empty space and trees.

We watch their fluid movements
and changing colors as the sun sets.

Each passing moment like snowflakes
and we struggle to take all of this in.

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Poem – Memories

Memories of distant surfaces
of planets I have not seen.

Mountains beyond the eyes reach
and multiple suns that never set.

Where is the place beyond the
known expanse of space?

I see white petals
falling into the black water

over and over and over.

I stand at the confluence
and water washes over my feet.

I kneel at the confluence
and purple light washes over my body.

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Poem – Calm

Time and age conspire
with numbers setting expectations.

You are only as old as you feel
and that depends on the body’s voice.

These things are mostly out of our control
and in youth we ignore and push limits

looking to find something beyond life
looking over the edge at the mouth of death.

As maturity and wisdom settle like
white petals upon the empty field

the pace becomes slower and immersed
with purpose and awareness

of the mouth opening wider, moving
closer as the sun edges toward the horizon.

We stop each moment and turn them
in the lantern’s light.

We see each detail and imperfection,
we admire the craftsmanship.

In the evening following the storm’s
reach we watch the black clouds pass

and the purple light through the trees
as we smell the spring wind and think of nothing.

The Meeting

(1)

I followed the man in a red robe with deep purple beads and dreadlocks through the town square lined with meat, seafood, rugs, and incense vendors. Past the fountain until we stopped at the waters edge.

I vow to become the swift moving stream atop the slow moving bedrock that is the world I am in, but not of.

To become a vessel of dharma, I followed this man for years, in his footsteps, through fire and water

through dessert, and fields of broken glass.

We never spoke and I never questioned.

I awoke when he woke.

I fell asleep when he fell asleep.

(2)

Raging fire of pine and oak

a thin veil as we stare at the evening sky.

Over time the pinpoints move closer

in and out of our vision, a blink

and they soon sit in the palm of my hand.

(3)

Various processes take place and the system

rotates, fluctuates, consumes, and releases energy.

I wonder the consciousness this contains and the fiber

of neurons interconnected, pulsating and the breath it appears to take.

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