Apology For Angry Skies

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka
Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Flickr

Rainbows apologize for angry skies.”
― Sylvia Voirol

The Conservation of Scenery

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka
Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Flickr

“Good farmers, who take seriously their duties as stewards of Creation and of their land’s inheritors, contribute to the welfare of society in more ways than society usually acknowledges, or even knows. These farmers produce valuable goods, of course; but they also conserve soil, they conserve water, they conserve wildlife, they conserve open space, they conserve scenery.”

– Wendell Berry

Sowing Lightning

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka
Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Flickr

“Seize
Bolts of lightning from the sky
And plant them in fields of life.

They will grow like tender sprouts of fire.
Charge somber thoughts
With unexpected flash,
You, my lightning in the soil!”

– Visar Zhiti, The Condemned Apple: Selected Poetry

A Profession of Hope

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka
Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Flickr

“Farming is a profession of hope”

– Brian Brett

The Same Breath

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka
Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Flickr

“All things share the same breath – the beast, the tree, the man… the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.”
– Chief Seattle

Tempestuous Twilight

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka
Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Flickr

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
– Rabindranath Tagore

A Troubled Sky Reveals

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka
Flickr | Twitter | Facebook

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.

– “Snow-flakes” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Remembered Light

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka

Flickr | Twitter | Facebook

… not every man knows what he’ll discover instead.
When the weight of the past leans against nothing, and the sky

Is no more than remembered light, and the stories of cirrus
And cumulus come to a close, and all the birds are suspended in flight,
Not every man knows what is waiting for him, or what he shall sing
When the ship he is on slips into darkness, there at the end.

– Excerpt from “The End” by Mark Strand

Snow-Bound

© 2013 Loren Zemlicka

Flickr | Twitter | Facebook

The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

– Excerpt from “Snow-Bound” by John Greenleaf Whittier