JamesWatkins' photostream  

Better Large-These birds are crazy! Closer up here-Thousands upon thousands flock to a southern pond and field in Arkansas. They are so beautiful and dramatic, it was a wonderful experience to be in the middle of all of this, at just the right place, just the right time. (to Hal...run backwards)

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

WHERE SNOW GEESE GO
(JHWatkins)

The wild north wind spoke steadily
Once more,
Of siren dreams
And Southern shores,

While in the circle many knew
What paths of wandering
To pursue.

By flight-ed fields of distant
Stars,
And feather-furied
Beating hearts.

Where do you go my friends?
What voice do you hear
That moves you so?
What thing do you feel?
What truth do you know,

That stirs you-guides you
Through the night,
On wing-ed hope
Of distant delight?

To capture this soul
In mystery-
Where snow geese go
My heart soars free.

James Watkins
January 10, 2012

We drove by a pond in Arkansas near the Tennessee line and saw all of these snow geese congregating by the 10s of thousands...possibly 100s of thousands. They are very sensitive to noise and as we drove by they flew up into what looked like a gray tornado wave of swirling wings and loud calls. We came to learn that these beautiful birds are considered pests further north for their habit of congregating in large numbers like this and eating everything in sight...then leaving remnants! Beautiful creatures in flight and on the ground in the pond swimming...and just mesmerizing in congregated confusion of flight, especially near sunset. Apparently THEY know what they are doing...and hard to get close to or to sneak up on! I have never seen so many wild birds in one place at the same time...and as we left they were still flying in from the horizon in all directions...just crazy!

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

Reflections On A Question Not Asked (JHWatkins)

I would not worship nature,
but
watch the firestorms
of evening Eden’s
colliding with collars of stars,
bordering the spreading blankets...
flowing......floating on mist.

Here deep spells
speak to rising hearts
of early years... tears...
and beginnings,
failed then
flourishing
in fading light.

Many the meetings in mirrors,
Reflection souls,
Broken and healed,
Sing out, having heard the cry
Wishing, then wondering-
Then washed by
colors of the night.

I would not worship nature
but cry quietly at
whispers of deep dreamy forests
drumming with wooden warmth
lost in caverns,
ascending in autumns,
forsaken in fragments
and
flames of the glowing day.

Come now,
softer than nature,
with wounded revelations,
Waves of somber subtle summers,
winters, and springs-
Come straighter and stronger,
on strict lines of deft decisions
resting by quietest waters
of heart streams
that have come home
to the
fountain of the universe.

James Watkins 12-31-08

Better Large-One more look at this beautiful tree in south Georgia. It took an especially spectacular change toward red this year.

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

ONLY THE BROKEN KNOW
(JHWatkins)

Only the broken know
Where to turn in lonely hour,
When spoken words
Strike like sword to heart
Or wave on thundering shoreline.

Where mercy could dive no deeper
Than the driving seas
Of love rooted sweet,
Or hope gently calling.

Across time-
Amazing gift that missed
Its mark, left its seed,
Then slew the giver.

Only the broken know
What comfort or strength
Heals the darkness
Or brings new light to
Wounded soul.

And by that thing,
Lift the stone
That started the storm,
And from the wound
Bring new life.

Only the broken know
Who heard their cry,
Then quieted the night
When voices raged,
Demanded destruction,
And fear was silenced
By stronger hands.

To come through flames
Unharmed,
Though burning,
Hot, heavy, and finally
Easily heaving.
Only the broken know.

James Watkins 12-12-11

Better Large. A rearward glimpse of my mother's backyard in south Georgia. Fall and winter are lovely there!

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

The Brightness of Our Childhood
(JHWatkins)

The brightness of our childhood,
Is not completely spent,
But stirs again in drifting dreams,
Restless and intense.

Rushing upward, out beyond
The envelope of time.
Fueled by futures, unfulfilled
Destined and divine.

Gloried, glazing glances,
Of eternity.
Sanctified by inward guide,
Satisfied and free.

Einstein has gone beyond,
With pieces of the plan.
He bent the chart,
But missed the heart,
To greener grass he ran.

Organized and energized,
He answered aimlessly.
Beyond pure thought,
The artist wrought,
Then finished flawlessly.

Explain the beauty of a lake,
Or calling of the sea,
The lonely lover or the lost,
Explain these things to me.

Explain the hurting for a friend,
Or mother’s mournful cry,
The blazing hosts of stars that sing,
Or the moment that we die.

Explain forever, or forgiveness,
Explain both wrong and right.
Or nature’s curse, the cause rehearse,
An answer would be nice.

Or loose the light of childhood,
A flame still burning bright,
Consuming fire of destiny,
Devouring darkened night.

Return to heights heroic,
Be partial in your place,
Uniquely primed,
By grace designed,
To answer with
Your faith.

James Watkins 2006

Better Large-A closeup and panorama of the back hill at my mother's home in Georgia. A place of rest at a very colorful time of year. She probably has a fire going right now!

FOR THOSE INTERESTED I HAVE AN EXHIBITION AT THIS LINK www.flickr.com/groups/inspiringcollection/discuss/7215762...

Keeping The Colors Of Light I Saw (JHWatkins)

Keeping the colors of light I saw,
Hidden deep in my heart-
Here, chambered in silence they grow-
Where, watered by time they flow,
To places concealed at the start.

Each shade, a life of its own,
Gathering force like the wind,
Bursting with promise
And purpose renewed,
In heavenly dreams they ascend.

Returning to sources of similar schemes,
Gliding down currents of circular themes,
Reveried ideas of wondrous things,
Calling me now to attend.

Revelation perpetually rose,
From comical cracks and poetry prose,
Fractured infighting,
Formidable foes,
Deceived by games they portend.

Up through atmospheres,
Right through the stars,
Backed-down multitudes,
Battered and scarred-
Groaning, condoning,
Conditions bizarre,
Where correctional forces contend.

Keeping the colors of light I saw-
Hidden deep in my heart-
Here, chambered in silence they grow-
Shaping the future with wisdom I know,
In places concealed from the start.

J.H.Watkins 01/10/10