Stone Bench

silence

pervasive stillness
expectation
fluttering leaves

This was published last year on my original site in response to Rick Daddario’s
30DOH. Thought I would publish it here as well given the photo I took, on the top of this site, is the same one that I used with this post.

© September 2016/July 2017

An Angel Waiting

I lay restlessly, upon the sheets of my bed, now soaked with perspiration. I tried in vain to sleep but drifted in and out of what I came to believe were the realities of my night.

I could see you there as real as though you were standing by my bed. “You are my comfort”, I told you. “You are my angel”. You give me your strength night after long night and even though you fade with the morning light, I know you will come to me again.

The window though closed seemed to be open and the leaves of the tree outside drifted inside. They fell to the floor to accumulate like a soft carpet and fell atop my pillow by my head. Each night these were my realities. I called to you and you came as though no walls could hinder your presence by my bed.

Beacon of darkest night
Portent of life
Guardian of my soul

You could have been a dream but each night you returned when I called. Who is to say what is real.

© July 2017 Renee Espriu

I quickly took out my watercolors and acrylics to create something to go with this newest post. I had been thinking of this image and so rather than ponder it too much, which I have a tendancy to do, I painted what it was my mind saw.

Dream (2)

 

 

Surviving The Elements

Today will be a better day and the day after that and the day after tomorrow. She had taken her time building this home for her offspring and it would not fail. The wind had taken the previous home and shaken it so that nothing was left…or nearly nothing. Her little ones had not survived.

But her she is inspecting each piece of wood that is put into place and it is more secure. For even though there might be wind it will not be put asunder. I am young, she thinks, and her offspring will survive. In fact, she hears them now, as she is headed for home. They seem to always know when she is coming. They are so noisy and make such a raucous! But she is happy to hear it. When she gets there she counts heads and yes, there are still three and they are still just as hungry as ever. Today is a success!

Twigs woven nest
fluffy hatchlings
wide mouths open

© July 2017 Renee Espriu

I have baby robins outside my apartment that can be seen in a hedge on the other side of my deck. The first nest mother robin made was in a Mountain Ash tree and when the wind blew she lost all her eggs. That was the front side of the apartment and the tree is small and not the best place for a nest. Hopefully, this time, she will have better luck. I can see at least three heads peek up waiting to be fed and have seen mother robin be there without fail. We will see.

I created a piece of art using watercolor, acrylics and watercolor pencil for the baby robins.

Baby Robins (2)

Radiant Sound

She always thought of time as that of a thief in the night. As she lays sleeping it will silently and quickly take minutes, hours, days, months and years from her already long life. She wakes in the morning feeling as though she has lost something, misplaced during the moments of tiredness before she lays down to sleep. It will come to her, certainly, and she will find that which is lost is still within her reach. But the worrisome object of her concern does not appear.

She goes about her day watching the telltale signs that she is late for an appointment. Perhaps the sun is too high in the sky now, there are far too many people already busy about their day. The air once coolish, settling on her skin and the tiny drops of moisture from the marine layer of air, has warmed urging her to shed her hoody to expose her arms to the sun’s rays. She parks her car as quickly as a full parking lot will allow her and approaches the seven story building. After traversing the steps she enters the door and takes the elevator up. But, no, she is on time for the ritualistic drawing of blood to tell her that her blood in neither too thick nor too thin. A small price to pay for her gift of life orchestrated by a synthetic valve within her chest.

constant ticking clock
radiant sound
within a beating heart

She walks into the afternoon sun and views her surroundings. She is always surprised and amazed she is still here to view the horizon as though she is seeing it for the first time and is only now stepping into her life.

© July 2017 Renee Espriu

Radiant

A New Site In Way of Explanation

This site is a work in progress presently. It took me awhile to get even this far as I am at odds with the technical world we all enjoy. Please bear with me as this might take some time. I will endeavor to post more of my own personal take on art by either creating my own pieces to go with my writing or take photos from the Morgue File, as I have on my current site http://reneejustturtleflight.com and digitize them as another way to create
art. Thank you in advance for all those who write, love art, create in other ways or all of the above.