Tag Archives: Poetry

What the Wind Erased

A landscape transformed by fog and cold

Crystallized grasses and bejeweled trees

Dazzling and glinting in the sunrise

The slightest physical touch or force of nature

Will fracture the delicate crystals 

So you hold your breath and get as close as possible

Hoar frost Grass Frond
Hoar frost hangs heavy on some grass.

Then a death knell begins as a distant puff of wind

Slowly it grows, stripping the trees and grasses

Casting the flakes like diamonds into the breeze

A blink of the eye and the trees are naked and plain

Anyone driving by would never know what the wind erased. 

Hoar Frost floats in a puff of wind.
Fractured Hoar Frost crystals float in a puff of wind.

 

When I stepped outside today the world was transformed. The skies were blue, the sun was white, and hoar frost bejeweled the world. I was astounded by the fragility of the phenomenon as mother nature used the wind to erase her artwork in only a few minutes.

Hoar Frost
Huge flakes of hoar frost from an old aster.
Frost on crystals
Ice crystals extend out from a grass frond.
Prairie Hoar Frost
Prairie Hoar Frost
Hoar Frost in the Field.
The trees above my house are illuminated by the rising sun.

DSC_6913 DSC_6910 P1040299

Thunderstorm at the Lake

Thunderstorm At The Lake

Stars in the sky, pinpricks of light

Reminders of incomprehensible space

Are veiled by celestial violence close to earth

Huge eruptions of light cloaked by billowing curtains which move to blot the heavens

 

Onward the storm rolls, smothering the sky

The white flashes incessant and blinding like a welder’s torch

Illuminating the windless landscape in rapid succession

Bouncing light off the still water of the lake into the eyes of the beholding humans

 

A distant rolling bass  is finally heard

Informing the watchers of impending impact

A warm breeze riffles the water

Circular discs shatter the still water, and one by one the rain drops push the observers inside

 

An Ode to Fall

An Ode To Fall

All Beautiful, Colors

Dropping Effortlessly Fluttering, Grounded

Hunting Including Johnson Kin, Legendary

Mornings Nothing-but Olfactory Prestige, Quintessential

Ringed Smoke Trembles, Upward

Vexing Weather, ‘Xtreme

Yellow, Zen

Happy Fall Everyone! The structured poem above is meant to capture the color, smells, transition, and culture of what fall means to me. But it certainly is a season that has many meanings to many people. Fall is already completed in Fairbanks, but here are a variety of fall colors taken from the Fairbanks and Denali regions with guest contributions from my Dad, Chuck Johnson. He was able to capture some wonderful colors when they visited in August!

What does fall mean to you? And has it already come-and-passed where you are? I would love to hear!