MIGRATION

MIGRATION    wood sculpture by Candace Knapp 
16 inches x 10 inches x 9 inches    Photo Bjorn Andren

MIGRATION

I guess you’ve heard of dung beetles
pushing those brown balls up a hill,
there are a lot of stories...
well that’s not me at all.
I am on the move though.
I’m migrating and I love it!
This is the good life
out on the road with the sun in my face and the wind at my back...
Some creatures go South this time of year
when flowers close up and an icy wind threatens.
They call this time “the holidays.”
I follow my instinct creeping into the sad and lonely places:
the little shadow below the eye,
the corner of the mouth,
the lump in the throat...
I set up camp anchoring my legs and stretching up to my full height.
Gradually, petal by petal I open my magnificent flower.
Now understand,
I am virtually invisible but when I release my perfume
everything changes;
the breath comes easy,
the heart relaxes
and the music starts to play!
Can you hear it now?

COOL BREEZE

COOL BREEZE    acrylic on wood panel by Candace Knapp
34 inches x 34 inches  x 1 ½ inches     Photo Bjorn Andren
COOL BREEZE

“I must have just dozed off,” thought Clare as the cool breeze touched her neck.
The sun was warm on her chest but there was a hint of November in the air.
“I wonder how long I was asleep?,” she asked herself as she looked down for her watch.
The yellow cat on the porch swing next to her lifted his head lazily.
“Oh that’s right, I lost it on the beach yesterday
when Georgia and I took that walk after the bridge game.
That little gold watch meant a lot. Bill gave it to me on our fiftieth anniversary.
It’s my own fault. I knew the clasp was worn. So many things fall away these days
but I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve got my health
and how many people from Danville, Illinois get to live in Englewood, Florida?”
Clare looked out at the sea grapes, the palm trees and caught a glimpse of the gulf
just beyond the houses across the street. Her neighbor, Joe, passed by on his bicycle.
“I’ve been planted here,” she thought. “Just like those tulip bulbs we dug up and replanted when we moved to the house on Wilson Street. They did fine.
I am doing fine too.”
Just then a sand hill crane walked right up to her porch and looked at her,
poked around a little in the grass and then wandered off.
Mr. Anderson next door started playing his Hammond organ.
He was pretty good but he played the same songs from Sound of Music over and over.
Clare started to hum along in spite of herself.
A little smile crossed her face.

“WOMAN, WAKE UP ! “   Bill’s voice was harsh and loud.
“Get in there and make my lunch!
After that your gonna have to shovel the walk,
it’s snowing again and my back is bad today.
What’s wrong with you?
You still daydreaming about Florida?
It’s never gonna happen.”

Clare didn’t tell him.
She already lives there.

BRUCE

BRUCE     wood sculpture by Candace Knapp
74 inches  x 15 inches  x 15 inches,   Photo Bjorn Andren  
 
BRUCE

This morning when first light sliced the horizon
and distant hills were covered in white mist,
my own heart spoke to me,
“go home...”
and so I found the familiar trail, forest in shades of hazy green,
sound of my own feet on wet leaves, spider webs white with due.
On I went to the clearing where I was born.
Here the ancients stretch their heavy arms to the sky
and peace hangs in the air like a perfume.
The call of a lone crow pierced the silence.
I waited for the sun to come and warm my back,
ate a few tender green leaves and tart purple berries.
Two squirrels chased each other round my feet,
a lizard ran up a tree and the bird call symphony began.
There were soooo many tasty things to eat !
I was just nosing through the leaves for some mushrooms,
bees humming around my head,
when I felt something smooth and hard just beneath the surface.
I pulled it up with my teeth.
It was a long white bone, from a leg I guess.
In fact, it was about the size of my leg bone.
Now my kind , we are herd animals. We are not meant to live alone as I do.
Just then I was feeling a little sorry for myself and this bone came up as an answer.
It must have belonged to one of my ancestors.
It was comforting, sounds strange I know.
Anyway, I started thinking about the majestic Mother Nature
who is taking such good care of me.
I think it is because I call her “mom”.