the young for all they don't know see everything
The future killed my parents And will probably kill yours too It steals your wealth and rots your teeth Wears out your coat and shoe The future sometimes seems so bright So promising and true You try so hard to please it What else is there to do The path well worn that seems to work For more than just a few It is the future's favorite trap Line up and join the queue A fellow blazes his own path In search of something new And finds the future waiting there He wonders how it knew The future killed our parents And theirs before them too And when you think it's had enough It finally comes for you
Photo (CC) 2021 : Have a nice day! 🙂
Captivated by the imagery produced in sand by the wind and water I decided to curate a little show of its work. Water or air moving over loose sand will produce a matrix of interlocking dune forms reminiscent of the cords of gray matter on the exterior of a brain. Dappling from raindrops adds texture to the mix. Some of these are combinations of all three effects. The photo captions serve as titles and attempt to gather loosely into a poem.
Cropped and minimally edited photos of Gulf Coast beach sand made with a Galaxy S9 over several days. (CC) 2021
A LITTLE LESSON IN GETTING A TON OF RELAXATION
I am all that I can see The one who matters, me, me, me The universe revolves around The point wherever I am found I could drink a case of me And be as happy as can be If only I knew what to do With all the other people who Think they themselves are number one How dare they ruin all my fun
With nods and all respect to Joni Mitchell.
Harrier indulged me with some close-up poses in the early AM out near Bolivar Flats. There’s been a pair of them hunting the fields between the highway and the beach.
All photos (CC-BY-SA) 2021, G. Paul Randall. April on the Texas Gulf Coast.
Bricks and windows are forever at odds and space defies all confines while the breath, drawing and letting Marks out all the points in time where a move came to move or nothing came to much The space accommodates all takers: from receptions, wakes, last suppers baptisms and sky burials, to yoga classes teas for two, AA meetings, free associations sack races, and talent shows Come as you are and be as you were, the air here's been breathed by the likes of you And knows exactly what to do
It is peak birding season here on the Texas Gulf Coast, so please forgive the excessive posting of bird photos. This Prothonotary Warbler stayed with me for a good 30 minutes giving ample photo ops. At one point it was foraging so close that the telephoto couldn’t focus. You have to see this bird in person to appreciate the intensity of yellow. It is like the archetype of all yellows, uncapturable by photographic means. This is at the Snuffy Smith Memorial Bird Blind (not its real name) hidden away within the Corp Woods Nature Preserve in Galveston, TX.
The shear cruelty of the natural world is on display here as a warbler snags a pair of mating moths.
All photos (CC-BY-SA) 2021, G. Paul Randall
At the break of mean sea level Bathed in the lowest of light A stark totem of redemption Warns of a powerful undertow As those who swim well know
Photo: on the Jane Long Memorial Highway, TX 87, Bolivar Peninsula, TX. (CC-BY-SA) 2021, G. Paul Randall
The Northern Cardinal
Sees himself in reflection
Me, I merely grunt
And keep on shaving