View allAll Photos Tagged writeout
Life Finds A Way
From the cone, released
I fall, carried away
by a brisk breeze,
away from chipmunk,
down into the crevice
of black basalt,
snug inside as rain falls
I sprout, spiraling my root
along the crack
to the soil, stem streaming
to the light above,
I grow tall in the rock,
a seemingly unlikely spot, yet
life finds a way
Sheri Edwards
100521 27836521
Poetry/Photography
Ponderosa Pine
Steamboat Rock State Park, WA
askwhatelse.blog/2021/10/05/day-572-ponderosa-pine/
#OctDoodle
#CLmooc
#writeout
The Process:
sheri42.net/2021/10/06/wednesday-warmup-outdoor-inspiration/
Whisper of the Wind
The whisper of the wind in our ears,
just a brush of a breeze
tangling strands of our hair, unaware
the echo of fairies dancing on leaves,
each hop from a gleeful step -a whoosh,
harmonies of a fairy two-step
whose cadence is the twilight ‘tween light and dark,
the rush of cool in autumn eves,
and we see only
the shimmering leaves.
Sheri Edwards
101121 28436521
Poetry/Photography
#writeout #nanowrimo #fairysong
Photo/Art The Hawthorn Tree 09.07.2021
I did a workshop for 4th graders where we learned how trees communicate. Then the students wrote in chalk what they imagined the trees would say and what they might look like.
I did a workshop for 4th graders where we learned how trees communicate. Then the students wrote in chalk what they imagined the trees would say and what they might look like.
Swimmer Skimmer
Little waterfowl
skimming across the water
suddenly diving, disappearing
beneath the surface
barely a shadow racing
through the water
just as suddenly popping up
far from where it started
skimming across the water
little waterfowl
Sheri Edwards
10.16.22 291.365.22
Poetry/Photography
Photo: Banks Lake, WA
I did a workshop for 4th graders where we learned how trees communicate. Then the students wrote in chalk what they imagined the trees would say and what they might look like.
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
A pause in life’s journey
The little tree created a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
Barely there it stood:
A bit scrawny— here a limb, there a limb
yet many small leaves fluttering in the breeze
As if nature planted it just there, on a whim.
A lovely deep green pleasantly inviting all
When the afternoon sun blazes spots
Of heat waves on the concrete parking lot
Brown grass, mowed, baking in the heat: we stop.
Still, the tree reaches out with branches,
stretching out far with its finger tips
To share every bit of shade it possibly can
A welcome respite for the traveler on trips.
The wind whistles through the branches
The leaves flick together releasing wind’s energy
A brown dragonfly’s wings whirl past your ear,
darting along on the waves of wind’s synergy.
Cars murmur briefly, speeding by
A meadow lark song rings crisp near its top
A yellow-bellied marmot chirps his warning
For each traveler’s step on the lot’s grassy plot.
Between the worries of the where I was
and relief of where I’ll be
The little tree and its shade pulls me to calm,
a hug from a friend always there with me:
A warm acceptance of what is,
and a cooling of the grief
With no words, just being there,
Consistent relief—
A companion of support, giving hope
Standing strong in its own adversity
To say, you too can keep going,
Through the day’s uncertainty.
That first day when heat
our air conditioner overcame
and we stopped, stretching our legs
in a walk for relief to reclaim
Touching the tops of the waving prairie grasses
Amid darting insects beneath the searing sun
Discovering the welcome shade of the little tree
Stretching its shade to shelter all, everyone.
Growing strong in the arid shrub-steppe
Offering its solace to those on its highway
In the middle of a drive from here to there
Its stark silhouette, a welcome: “this way!”
It stood leafless that March amid melting ice,
Stark dark brown trunk against the cold grey sky
Still its limbs reached out, “I’m still here.”
And I wondered, “Are you there, holding the sky?”
And on the tips of the branches, small buds of green
Called, “I’ll be here for you tomorrow, too,
Holding the sky, No, I won’t let it fall; I’ll stand tall”
And I in my sorrow sighed, “I so thank you.”
And now, little tree, you’re cut: just a stump-
Gone from your post, your strength and your hope;
Without the silhouette of that courageous tree,
How many now miss its message to cope?
An emptiness of sorrow surges in my heart
A hole that grows each time the tree I can’t see,
Sealing in the truth of loss that holds my heart
A truth of the grief healed by the sight of that tree.
In my mind I’ll remember the strength of its welcome
I’ll maintain the memories, let them mend all that was then
And like the little tree, let the now render tomorrow
Holding the hurt in the grateful space of its remembered, hopeful vision.
Sheri Edwards
102321 29636521
Poetry/Photography
whatelse.edublogs.org/2021/10/23/ode-to-telford-rest-area...
askwhatelse.blog/2021/10/23/day-590-an-ode/
Creating a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
Mushroom 4 Digital Watercolor— mushroom umbrella for ladybugs
sheri42.net/2022/10/05/october-doodle-mushroom-4/
sheri42.net/2022/10/05/wednesday-wrapup-writeout/
#makingarteveryday #octdoodle #octoberdoodle #cldoodle22 #warmup4art #clmooc #digitalwatercolor #mushroom #ipadartwithjennifernichols [her brushes] #mushroomart2022
also included in #writeout
whatelse.edublogs.org/2022/10/05/writeout-daily-journal-art/
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
A pause in life’s journey
The little tree created a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
Barely there it stood:
A bit scrawny— here a limb, there a limb
yet many small leaves fluttering in the breeze
As if nature planted it just there, on a whim.
A lovely deep green pleasantly inviting all
When the afternoon sun blazes spots
Of heat waves on the concrete parking lot
Brown grass, mowed, baking in the heat: we stop.
Still, the tree reaches out with branches,
stretching out far with its finger tips
To share every bit of shade it possibly can
A welcome respite for the traveler on trips.
The wind whistles through the branches
The leaves flick together releasing wind’s energy
A brown dragonfly’s wings whirl past your ear,
darting along on the waves of wind’s synergy.
Cars murmur briefly, speeding by
A meadow lark song rings crisp near its top
A yellow-bellied marmot chirps his warning
For each traveler’s step on the lot’s grassy plot.
Between the worries of the where I was
and relief of where I’ll be
The little tree and its shade pulls me to calm,
a hug from a friend always there with me:
A warm acceptance of what is,
and a cooling of the grief
With no words, just being there,
Consistent relief—
A companion of support, giving hope
Standing strong in its own adversity
To say, you too can keep going,
Through the day’s uncertainty.
That first day when heat
our air conditioner overcame
and we stopped, stretching our legs
in a walk for relief to reclaim
Touching the tops of the waving prairie grasses
Amid darting insects beneath the searing sun
Discovering the welcome shade of the little tree
Stretching its shade to shelter all, everyone.
Growing strong in the arid shrub-steppe
Offering its solace to those on its highway
In the middle of a drive from here to there
Its stark silhouette, a welcome: “this way!”
It stood leafless that March amid melting ice,
Stark dark brown trunk against the cold grey sky
Still its limbs reached out, “I’m still here.”
And I wondered, “Are you there, holding the sky?”
And on the tips of the branches, small buds of green
Called, “I’ll be here for you tomorrow, too,
Holding the sky, No, I won’t let it fall; I’ll stand tall”
And I in my sorrow sighed, “I so thank you.”
And now, little tree, you’re cut: just a stump-
Gone from your post, your strength and your hope;
Without the silhouette of that courageous tree,
How many now miss its message to cope?
An emptiness of sorrow surges in my heart
A hole that grows each time the tree I can’t see,
Sealing in the truth of loss that holds my heart
A truth of the grief healed by the sight of that tree.
In my mind I’ll remember the strength of its welcome
I’ll maintain the memories, let them mend all that was then
And like the little tree, let the now render tomorrow
Holding the hurt in the grateful space of its remembered, hopeful vision.
Sheri Edwards
102321 29636521
Poetry/Photography
whatelse.edublogs.org/2021/10/23/ode-to-telford-rest-area...
askwhatelse.blog/2021/10/23/day-590-an-ode/
Creating a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
I did a workshop for 4th graders where we learned how trees communicate. Then the students wrote in chalk what they imagined the trees would say and what they might look like.
I did a workshop for 4th graders where we learned how trees communicate. Then the students wrote in chalk what they imagined the trees would say and what they might look like.
Beneath the Cottonwood
Following the path
beneath the giant cottonwood
tuned to the song of meadowlark
and the peck, peck, peck
of the downy woodpecker
to the edge of the Big Muddy
for Dad’s cast for a Northern Pike
and we, brother and I,
catch and release hopping friends,
Woodhouse Toad.
Sheri Edwards
10.10.22 285.365.22
Poetry/Photography
whatelse.edublogs.org/2022/10/10/writeout-journal-cottonw...
#clmooc #DS106 @ds106dc #tdc3924 #writeout
See It and Sketch It— out my window
One of our crab apple trees— a mule deer favorite
Crab Apple Delights
In spring, so bright
blossoms of pink
In summer, a sight
leaves of deep green
In autumn, fruit bite
mule deer delight!
Sheri Edwards
10.11.22 286.365.22
Poetry/Photography
sheri42.net/2022/10/11/writeout-out-my-window/
twitter.com/grammasheri/status/1579955262181769219?s=20&a...
whatelse.edublogs.org/2022/10/11/writeout-journal-out-my-...
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
A pause in life’s journey
The little tree created a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
Barely there it stood:
A bit scrawny— here a limb, there a limb
yet many small leaves fluttering in the breeze
As if nature planted it just there, on a whim.
A lovely deep green pleasantly inviting all
When the afternoon sun blazes spots
Of heat waves on the concrete parking lot
Brown grass, mowed, baking in the heat: we stop.
Still, the tree reaches out with branches,
stretching out far with its finger tips
To share every bit of shade it possibly can
A welcome respite for the traveler on trips.
The wind whistles through the branches
The leaves flick together releasing wind’s energy
A brown dragonfly’s wings whirl past your ear,
darting along on the waves of wind’s synergy.
Cars murmur briefly, speeding by
A meadow lark song rings crisp near its top
A yellow-bellied marmot chirps his warning
For each traveler’s step on the lot’s grassy plot.
Between the worries of the where I was
and relief of where I’ll be
The little tree and its shade pulls me to calm,
a hug from a friend always there with me:
A warm acceptance of what is,
and a cooling of the grief
With no words, just being there,
Consistent relief—
A companion of support, giving hope
Standing strong in its own adversity
To say, you too can keep going,
Through the day’s uncertainty.
That first day when heat
our air conditioner overcame
and we stopped, stretching our legs
in a walk for relief to reclaim
Touching the tops of the waving prairie grasses
Amid darting insects beneath the searing sun
Discovering the welcome shade of the little tree
Stretching its shade to shelter all, everyone.
Growing strong in the arid shrub-steppe
Offering its solace to those on its highway
In the middle of a drive from here to there
Its stark silhouette, a welcome: “this way!”
It stood leafless that March amid melting ice,
Stark dark brown trunk against the cold grey sky
Still its limbs reached out, “I’m still here.”
And I wondered, “Are you there, holding the sky?”
And on the tips of the branches, small buds of green
Called, “I’ll be here for you tomorrow, too,
Holding the sky, No, I won’t let it fall; I’ll stand tall”
And I in my sorrow sighed, “I so thank you.”
And now, little tree, you’re cut: just a stump-
Gone from your post, your strength and your hope;
Without the silhouette of that courageous tree,
How many now miss its message to cope?
An emptiness of sorrow surges in my heart
A hole that grows each time the tree I can’t see,
Sealing in the truth of loss that holds my heart
A truth of the grief healed by the sight of that tree.
In my mind I’ll remember the strength of its welcome
I’ll maintain the memories, let them mend all that was then
And like the little tree, let the now render tomorrow
Holding the hurt in the grateful space of its remembered, hopeful vision.
Sheri Edwards
102321 29636521
Poetry/Photography
whatelse.edublogs.org/2021/10/23/ode-to-telford-rest-area...
askwhatelse.blog/2021/10/23/day-590-an-ode/
Creating a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
for #writeout via DS106 Daily Create -- original article www.reuters.com/legal/us-supreme-court-wont-pause-epa-pow...
And Still It Flows
Long ago an occasional Ponderosa pine
among the many sagebrush
dotted the expanse of dust
surrounding a village
of tule mat lodges
now a small town,
both hugging the edge
of the mighty river
A small white head
pops up in the nest
of broken sticks
of fire-resistant pint
high atop
an abandoned
telephone pole
Below, white foam surges
atop indigo currents
spinning in whirlpools,
spiraling to a vortex
that explodes into ripples
erupting into white foam
over indigo
over and over
like galaxies spreading
across the universe
Above, two osprey on uplifting currents
circling in an unseen funnel,
with keen eyes searching before
diving head first within minutes,
barbed foot pads grasping
the squirming walleye, dinner ready
And mate’s sharp, piercing call
“Dinner is coming”
“I give you life,”
rumbles the river
“and power”
as it tumbles
through the turbine
spinning to light up
the windows in the cluster
of homes on its shore
While the ghost
of salmon calls,
“I am there no more.”
Sheri Edwards
102221 29536521
Poetry/Photography
whatelse.edublogs.org/2021/10/22/and-still-it-flows-write...
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
A pause in life’s journey
The little tree created a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
An Ode to the Telford Rest Area Tree
Barely there it stood:
A bit scrawny— here a limb, there a limb
yet many small leaves fluttering in the breeze
As if nature planted it just there, on a whim.
A lovely deep green pleasantly inviting all
When the afternoon sun blazes spots
Of heat waves on the concrete parking lot
Brown grass, mowed, baking in the heat: we stop.
Still, the tree reaches out with branches,
stretching out far with its finger tips
To share every bit of shade it possibly can
A welcome respite for the traveler on trips.
The wind whistles through the branches
The leaves flick together releasing wind’s energy
A brown dragonfly’s wings whirl past your ear,
darting along on the waves of wind’s synergy.
Cars murmur briefly, speeding by
A meadow lark song rings crisp near its top
A yellow-bellied marmot chirps his warning
For each traveler’s step on the lot’s grassy plot.
Between the worries of the where I was
and relief of where I’ll be
The little tree and its shade pulls me to calm,
a hug from a friend always there with me:
A warm acceptance of what is,
and a cooling of the grief
With no words, just being there,
Consistent relief—
A companion of support, giving hope
Standing strong in its own adversity
To say, you too can keep going,
Through the day’s uncertainty.
That first day when heat
our air conditioner overcame
and we stopped, stretching our legs
in a walk for relief to reclaim
Touching the tops of the waving prairie grasses
Amid darting insects beneath the searing sun
Discovering the welcome shade of the little tree
Stretching its shade to shelter all, everyone.
Growing strong in the arid shrub-steppe
Offering its solace to those on its highway
In the middle of a drive from here to there
Its stark silhouette, a welcome: “this way!”
It stood leafless that March amid melting ice,
Stark dark brown trunk against the cold grey sky
Still its limbs reached out, “I’m still here.”
And I wondered, “Are you there, holding the sky?”
And on the tips of the branches, small buds of green
Called, “I’ll be here for you tomorrow, too,
Holding the sky, No, I won’t let it fall; I’ll stand tall”
And I in my sorrow sighed, “I so thank you.”
And now, little tree, you’re cut: just a stump-
Gone from your post, your strength and your hope;
Without the silhouette of that courageous tree,
How many now miss its message to cope?
An emptiness of sorrow surges in my heart
A hole that grows each time the tree I can’t see,
Sealing in the truth of loss that holds my heart
A truth of the grief healed by the sight of that tree.
In my mind I’ll remember the strength of its welcome
I’ll maintain the memories, let them mend all that was then
And like the little tree, let the now render tomorrow
Holding the hurt in the grateful space of its remembered, hopeful vision.
Sheri Edwards
102321 29636521
Poetry/Photography
whatelse.edublogs.org/2021/10/23/ode-to-telford-rest-area...
askwhatelse.blog/2021/10/23/day-590-an-ode/
Creating a place within my soul to hold the hurt.
Babes, each one
Big ears, big eyes,
Long legs, light dots,
Sleeping babes, any one,
Bring smiles, tug hearts.
Sheri Edwards
10.04.22 279.365.22
Poetry/Photography
sheri42.net/2022/10/04/babes-each-one/
and
whatelse.edublogs.org/2022/10/04/writeout-10-04-22-daily-...
for #writeout via DS106 Daily Create, with original flower image
A coded flower poem via Claude
Flower Image: "Backyard Flowers In Black And White 57 Flow Version" flickr photo by thelearningcurvedotca flickr.com/photos/thelearningcurvedotca/52161439202 shared under a Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA) license