Sunday, August 30, 2009


"Plum Bottom" photo by S. Auberle

In overcast dawn
a woman dances
down the
Plum Bottom Road.
Watching her,
my world
turns sunny.

Saturday, August 29, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
hot tea this morning
brown bread and rosehip jam
autumn in the air

Friday, August 28, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."
~ Goethe

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


Digitally altered photo by S. Auberle

No, this is not a haibun, but funny you should pleased to say that a haibun of mine (a prose piece of poetry, followed by a haiku) appears today on the beautiful website Haibun Today. Check it out, if you like:
The above artpiece is also a new endeavor of my adventure into handmade paper making.

Monday, August 24, 2009


All photos by S. Auberle
It's not been a good year for mushrooms--the chanterelles and morels were noticeably sparse in the spring and early summer. But now, overnight, an amazing variety of mysterious beings have sprung up in the dark of the moon. The rains have come, at last, and mushrooms appear to be thriving. They carpet the forest floor. Unfortunately, without knowing which species could do me in, I'm not about to try cooking with them. I don't think the ghostly one at the top is the amanita, the Destroying Angel, but it's spooky enough as it is, though quite an elegant species. My appreciation for their exquisite forms and colors will be limited to photographing and painting them and wondering if fairies, gnomes and elves reside there. I really believe it's quite possible...

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


Digital Photo Collage by S. Auberle
these wild creatures we are
made of sand and salt and stars,
walking the great circle of life,
loving in enormous,
unending beauty
~ mimi

Friday, August 14, 2009


Digitally altered photo by S. Auberle
His faultless body towers over the crowd,
blinding white, naked.
David, whispers the guide,
lost in his daily rapture...
see this, this angle is my favorite,
look at the veins in his arms, the muscles...
a woman tells us how Michaelangelo said
that David was already there,
in that pure block of stone,
simply waiting to be released...
Suddenly, noisy throngs disappear
and I'm alone, mesmerized
by this tall, marble man,
just David and me now,
his muscled arms lifting, beckoning,
my own reaching, answering his,
until a voice whispers
come back, come back
wherever you are,
and breathless, I return to earth,
your warm, encircling arms,
the floor, again cold, beneath me.
~ mimi

Tuesday, August 11, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
Bless this sun, this summer day,
bless the lake, the trees,
the thrush singing in the oak,
bless that black-as-the-devil raven,
muttering old prayers.
Bless you and me.
Immerse us in August heat
till we burn with joy,
till we remember
what has been forgotten:
how high Icarus flew
before he fell...
~ mimi

Friday, August 07, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle

Pleased to say that the above photo won an "Of Note" mention in the 2009 Hal Grutzmacher Photography Contest.
"Today, more than ever before,
life must be characterized
by a sense of Universal responsibility,
not only nation to nation
and human to human,
but also human to other forms of life."
~ the Dalai Lama

Tuesday, August 04, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
I imagine you, Vincent,
on a summer morning
in your village in Provence,
whispering to yourself,
arranging sunflowers
in a cracked, blue vase.
I see you painting them
over and over--your symbols of hope
that you will awaken one day
into a sunny world,
leave behind your darkness
of potato eaters and crows.
But oh, Vincent,
how brief the dance!
How quickly blossoms fade,
leaving only hope behind,
and a trail of yellow petals for us
to follow into the sun.
~ mimi

Monday, August 03, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
planted corn this year
three rows in hard ground
deer and raccoon had their way with it
and crow and drought
and only a few seeds survived
they weren't meant to be a crop
(just) beings of beauty
now the graceful stalks
lift skyward, further each day
their slender arms a prayer
to old gods
i think of the Hopi
how in that arid land
each stalk of corn is sacred
tended like a child
and i thank these survivors
bring them extra water
listen, with them
to the southwest wind
whispering grow...
~ mimi

Saturday, August 01, 2009


Photos by S. Auberle
"We are all between seven and eleven yars old and we come from Africa. We come from very poor villages and many of us are orphans. Our families find it hard to care for us. Children in our villages often do not learn to read or write because their families cannot afford to send them to school."
If the opportunity presents itself in your area, don't miss seeing the African Children's Choir. They are pure joy...
For more information on this very worthwhile organization, go to AFRICANCHILDRENS CHOIR.COM