What I remember best is the sharp smell of wild grapes
carried aloft in a warm updraft, their sharp tang a hint
of the coming winter, when their leaves will be withered
and the vines hard and dry, their hopes gone and the roots
hidden in sleep. I know they don’t, but I wonder—do they
dream, longing for a wet spring and a warm summer sun?
Do they yearn for another year, to bear again their bitter fruit?
Do they think about waking, and then, knowing that they are awake,
do they bask in the knowledge that they are the good creation of a
good God, aright in their place and placed aright by love’s design?
So much living, I think, for such a little tang on a last warm night,
there and then gone in a quick waft of air. Was it ever there at all?
It was actually on a bicycle ride when the scent of wild grapes hit us, so it is a small exercise of my artistic license…
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Lyn and I love to walk. The scenery is beautiful, the exercise good and the companionship wonderful. (Well, for me, anyway. I can’t speak for Lyn!) Below is a sampling of images taken on these walks as Autumn started to give way to early winter. I hope you like them…
Before viewing the photographs, I would also like to invite you to visit the poetry blog, the Book of Pain. As always, special thanks to my dearest Lyn, who does most of the hard part: the photo selections. Thank you for dropping by the Book of Bokeh.
All photographs and comments ©2014 by John Etheridge with all rights reserved; not to be used without the expressed written permission of the copyright owner.