My world.
My devotion.
My pulse.
emerald hued thoughts
devouring the ground in flora-like love
a million secret flavors of beauty
secluded and revealed
in frost covered stones
in lichen eaten crevasses
in salmonberry dreams
white petals as thin as the skin
on my weather adored lips
filled with bone colored age
and delicately flavored
with buoyant colored clouds
with feathers shed like tears
with salmonberry thoughts
transparent ice molded
by captured silhouettes
in envy of caribou antlers
and captured in song by
a wind passing red willow
a tangible hued bloom
a salmonberry scream
My world.
My devotion.
My pulse.
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There was the poem...and now some pics!
Before it got really cold and dark we went on a ride, the fog revealed and hid the countryside like some sort of peek-a-boo game
A set of rams horns from the dall sheep we caught this year
eskimo ice cream is actually whipped caribou fat filled with meat and broth and then frozen. Here is a pic of the fat after it's been whipped.
As promised this is a pic of the wolf we caught. A huge female. This is after it had been cleaned and before it was to be stretched and hung outside to be dried. Next we will tan the hide ourselves. A beautiful hide. More precious and useful than diamonds.
The poetry is beautiful, and the pictures are inspirational. You help me remember where I want to be. Growing up on a farm (not half as remote as you though) makes me yearn to be self sufficient. Yet I currently am still stuck in suburbia. Seeing that you are, makes me hope that one day, i too can live that dream.
ReplyDeletethe first picture reminds me of going in the skiff, the snow looks like the wake, and I had to look carefully to see that there was no water....
ReplyDelete