by Peter Bray
The bougainvillea and hydrangea grow together in the yard,
but one’s spiny thorns
makes the other’s life so hard.
The hydrangea is passive,
its color a softened glow,
while the bougainvillea screams its color,
like everybody ought to know.
About God’s intentions
I don’t have a clue,
but I know the bougainvillea’s
trimming’s way overdue.
So I plug in my hedge trimmer
and give it a thousand whacks,
and it fights my every move
like it’s wielding its thorny axe.
In the end I’m victorious,
the bougainvillea starts to bend,
the hydrangea will now stand tall,
I’m its savior and its friend.
The bougainvillea will recover,
next year we’ll do it all again,
adversaries or lovers,
every garden knows how to mend.
“In our country, true teams rarely exist . . . social barriers and personal ambitions have reduced athletes to dissolute cliques or individuals thrown together for mutual profit . . . Yet these rugby players. with their muddied, cracked bodies, are struggling to hold onto a sense of humanity that we in America have lost and are unlikely to regain. The game may only be to move a ball forward on a dirt field, but the task can be accomplished with an unshackled joy and its memories will be a permanent delight. The women and men who play on that rugby field are more alive than too many of us will ever be. The foolish emptiness we think we perceive in their existence is only our own.” – Victor Cahn
Simple beauty in the ordinary is enticing to me. Perhaps it is the years of shooting images and always looking for the unusual that keeps me creative. Drinking a glass of wine one balmy evening I saw the stem of my glass and opted to shoot it…here it is. Classic beauty of lines offset by the inky red wine.