The shore lies in stillness
a palette for the work of water.
Rocks live free from concern.
Pounding surf or soft caress
of gentle waves –
all the same to rock and shore.
What appears destruction
is only rearrangement –
shocking to brittle minds.
Rock will crumble to sand,
sand will dissolve in water,
and the ocean is all there is.
© poem and photo by caf
blog, earth, life, ocean, photos, poems, poetry, rock, sand, shore, water
We are autumn fruit
lying in a field
gazing at sky through lacy grasses.
Rain or sun – no matter.
Do I know you?
hidden as you are between bone and skin?
When we are done
this field will be our home
and summer fruits our children.
© photo and poem by carole fults
NOTE: This poem was first published in the Aurorean, New England’s Premier Independent Poetry Journal.Please check out their website at
I thought I heard your voice
but the whispers must have missed my ears
for now, only thick foggy silence sits on my shoulder
as I walk by a stream
through trees and Forget Me Nots.
Where are you? I miss you.
A bamboo flute calls through gray rain
heard only by turtles and herons
and me, as I wander through the mists
looking for a face lost long ago.
You must know, I have not forgotten.
© by carole fults
By Way of Explanation
The turkey in the field
wears shades of brown feathers
in simplicity as beautiful
as a peacock’s blue iridescence,
Oh, but you say C an’t you borrow just a bit of bling
for the day?
Sure, I reply, but then my poetry might not sparkle.
©poem and photo by carole fults
bling, blog, life, magic, nature, photographs, photos, poems, poetry, stories, turkeys
The Reluctant Cook
She cooks everything on high
no patience for process –
warming, browning, crisping.
must all happen at once
else time’s a-wastin’.
Toast cooked as intensely
as an egg is fried,
unfortunate vegetables whacked into bits
drowned in boiling olive oil.
She doesn’t mind the charred toast
soggy veggies or burnt garlic.
She just goes for it
and cooks everything on high
all the while savoring
the scent of a percolating poem
and moments sewn into life
by unexpected muses.
© photo and poem by carole fults
art, blog, burnt toast, cook, cooking, images, life, photography, photos, poems, poetry, stories, toast
Darkness, you bring rich deepness
blessing and fear
stealing blankets of warmth
from our comfortable resting place.
You show us stars, planets and galaxies not visible
when you withdraw.
You clothe our world in a blanket of cold,
a womb sheltering seeds of dramatic sunrise.
You are our Mother as much as Earth.
When light appears over the curvature
bathing our faces with tender regard
you take only partial leave,
lingering in shadows and making a home
under our own hats,
hiding in our marrow
a kernel of corn in a field
awaiting the sun
to stir its birth.
You bring us dreams –
relief from ordinary life,
an existence outside of sometimes banal days.
I would not give you up
nor ask you to stop returning,
for you help me see the substance
gleaming daylight often hides
behind her skirts.
Truth hidden by the bright light of the sun.
©Photo and poem by caf
Today the geese came home
to melting pasture
and white water creek.
Their loud chorus rose up
into chill dampening air,
the messy spate of thaw
smelling of molding winter
and cold sun warming transient spring.
Scarf’s fringe decorated my heart
as I watched them
resume last year’s flight over my roof.
And I was grateful
for I remembered the world does not awaken
until the geese return.
©photo and poem by caf