Solstitium

There came a day at summer’s full
Entirely for me;
I thought that such were for the saints
Where revelations be. ~ Emily Dickinson

Sunflowers: Copyright 2014 by JM DiGiacomo (Diane’s mom)

My summer has begun

Softly, quietly; under a few clouds

that won’t block the sunshine.

A lonesome beginning,

just as I like it,

in order to feel glad for myself and

honor the ways of those

who don’t look for company

except as it finds them

through the touch of a breeze

or face of a flower

or sigh of a raindrop

or trust of a sparrow;

with nothing to yield for 

but the freedom to reach

and wither

and grow all over again.

~ DM Denton

Blessings on this Summer Solstice

and 

Winter Solstice, for those in the southern hemisphere  

 

Earth, Teach Me

Earth teach me quiet ~ as the grasses are still with new light.
Earth teach me suffering ~ as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility ~ as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth teach me caring ~ as mothers nurture their young.
Earth teach me courage ~ as the tree that stands alone.
Earth teach me limitation ~ as the ant that crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom ~ as the eagle that soars in the sky.
Earth teach me acceptance ~ as the leaves that die each fall.
Earth teach me renewal ~ as the seed that rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself ~ as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness ~ as dry fields weep with rain.

– An Ute Prayer (Utes are indigenous people of the Great Basin, now living primarily in Utah and Colorado, USA)

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

To A Strange Somewhere Fled

I hope everyone is very well. I haven’t posted for a few weeks, because I’ve been putting all my writing time, energy, brain power and emotion into finishing the sequel to my historical fiction that imagined a collaboration and friendship between the fictional Donatella and the 17th century composer, Alessandro Stradella: A House Near Luccoli.

I have updated the page on this blog devoted to the sequel and am pleased to announce that:

The writing and (my) editing and revising of
To A Strange Somewhere Fled
IS DONE!

No comfort to my wounded sight,
In the Suns busie and imperti’nent light,
Then down I lay my head;
Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead,
And my freed soul to a strange somewhere fled.

(From The Despair by Abraham Cowley, first published 1647)

There is a strange somewhere between endings and beginnings.  What seems final is just preparation for what is to come. The changing of the seasons knows and depends on this. Leaves fall and the coldness comes. So does the inclination to sleep through those darker times, perhaps, with a wish to never wake. The light does return – just glimpses at first – to arouse what lives on. There’s warmth, too, slowly nourishing, encouraging and strengthening. And music – the breath, the touch, the heartbeat of Donatella’s story.

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

Donatella was born of my imagination – also my emotions, thoughts, impulses and encounters. After spending many years with her, she is as actual as anyone in my physical reality. Other writers will understand this phenomenon, I’m sure. For me, as with her, it will never be time to say goodbye.

“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”
~ Frank Herbert (American author, 1920-1986)

I invite you to read more about To A Strange Somewhere Fled HERE.

My hope is for it to be published
by the end of 2014 or beginning of 2015,
which gives me time to create the cover artwork!

AND …

those of you who haven’t yet read – or listened – to
A House Near Luccoli
a gentle reminder that it’s available in Print, Kindle, Audio Book and NOOK Book editions.

 

I’ve posted the following poem before,
but it fits well with the theme of endings and beginnings.

A winding road

had brought me back

to yellow flags

that grew the sun

out of the rain.

 

Forgetfulness

had left them there

to multiply

like bread and fish

for proof of faith.

 

Again I paused

and passed them by,

golden moments

waving me on

without farewell.

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.