December 8, 2021africa, image, leopards, lions, photography, wild dogs, wildlife, www.jfinkimages.com

African Wildlife Photo Collection- Botswana Part 2 (Okavango Delta)

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The second of three Collections of photos from Africa this last October is now up on my photo site, Jfinkimages (see the link below.) This is a larger set of images from the Okavango Delta in Botswana. While there was still water in the Delta, much of it was pretty dry. Nonetheless, we were still able to spend serious quality time with a wide array of of wildlife, highlighted by encounters with three groups of predators: African Wild Dogs (including witnessing a kill,) a brother and sister pair of Lions, and the most beautiful female Leopard I’ve ever seen!

Here’s the link: https://www.jfinkimages.com/p305060048#hdf04ccea

The link will take you directly to the Collection where you can either click through image-by-image, or click the “Slideshow” button in the top right – personally I like to run the Slideshow in full-screen, but of course, I’m biased!

Many thanks to Rob Barbour at Epic Private Journeys for orchestrating yet another “once in a lifetime” safari experience (https://epicprivatejourneys.com/) and for Mapula and Tuludi Camps for their terrific hospitality and expert guide services (https://www.okavangodelta.com/the-okavango/)

Enjoy

Jeff

April 25, 2020image, photography, poetry

Caught

bonesnsnowfishing, joy, life, nature, photography, photos, poems, poetry, prayer, space, sunrise 2 Comments

if fishing is what lifts up your heart, then fishing is your prayer

— Brother David Steindl-Rast

caught

between these mountains

we are held by the sky

the way fish are held by the river

this morning, the sun

broke the surface of the clouds

casting extravagant rainbows into space

it was all I could do to keep from leaping

for the simple joy of it, tail-dancing

across the valley floor, gills flapping

striking up and out toward heaven

taking the bait completely, caught

by this implausibly beautiful world

hook, line and sinker

April 18, 2020image, photography, poetry, Uncategorized

beyond reason

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beyond reason

the arthritic fingers of winter are relentless,

crushing into ice in the dark

all that had dared to soften

in the light of lengthening day.

pain and release, punishment

and care — each

are necessary.

we could never have designed this,

these alternating forces shaping the hands

that sculpt this world

into a beauty beyond intellect

into a heaven beyond reason.

April 11, 2020image, photography, poetry

alone in the dark

bonesnsnowclouds, dawn, human heart, moon, nature, photo, photography, photos, poems, poetry, resurection, space, sunset 2 Comments

alone in the dark

alone in the dark, waiting for the moon.

tonight, she leans in close

carefully parting the clouds, and says here,

hold this, I’ve brought you a small piece

of the sun as comfort against the night.

trust the light, she says, trust this moon

and these transcendent stars.

trust the return of the sun and the coming of dawn.

trust in the eventual dissolution of despair,

and the inevitable reawakening

of your own vast and radiant human heart.

April 5, 2020image, photography, poetry, Reflections

Isolation

bonesnsnowcommunication, coronavirus, death, dying, family, friends, humanity, life, memory, nature, pandemic, photography, photos, poems, poetry, relationships, self, survival, the future, travel Leave a comment

Isolation

(a partial inventory of things for which I grieve

in this time of pandemic)

Hugs and hands and friendly kisses.

A bar of soap in the dish, unremarkable and dry.

Going out to breakfast, pancakes and eggs, bacon

chatting with the waitress while waiting for you.

Driving to a meeting in town, boring, endless,

ordinary. College basketball. Baseball season.

Missing easy shots in tennis and losing my cool,

as if it mattered. Golden mornings passed

in silent meditation, my feet cold

on retreat, loving and being loved,

the soft sound of all of us breathing together,

as if it mattered. Being cold, being hot, wind,

rain, snow and sunburn. Sacred places,

Yosemite, The Grand Canyon, Dolomiti skies.

Cinque Torri at sunset, then again at dawn.

Parisian museums. Parisian meals. Parisian coffee.

Paris.

Venice in the morning. Eating gelato in Rome.

Eating more gelato in Rome.

Aging simply but still feeling young.

Not being classified as vulnerable.

Not being classified.

Not needing to sanitize the keys in order to loan the car

to my son. Seeing my sons. Holding them.

Seeing my infant granddaughter. Holding her

even if it still makes her cry.

The illusion of safety.

The familiar smell of my personal cocoon.

Never having to consider case counts, respirators

or exponential curves.

Believing myself to be harmless to others (or mainly so.)

Belief in a particular future.

The future.

The freedom to ignore a simple cough.

Taking a single breath for granted.

Believing that time is continuous, endless and free.

Ignorance of the gray man stalking the streets

counting breaths.

A committed belief in Death

as an abstraction.

April 2, 2020image, photography, poetry, Reflections

leave the way you came

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I’ve come to feel that we’re not truly isolated as long as we’re in the company of trees

leave the way you came

early sun on old snow, the wind

speaking in the high trees — welcome

move slowly in stillness — listen

completely. carry only respect

and reverence. leave

the way you came

March 29, 2020image, photography, poetry

one last chance

bonesnsnowcovid19, family, humanity, karma, life, nature, photography, photos, poems, poetry, quarantine, space Leave a comment

walking empty streets

in a late season snow, alone — where

have we all gone? what in heaven’s name

have we done?

this unnatural natural

silence, the distant cry of geese

returning, desperate for a place

to land

a single light in a room at the back

goes dark, while the herd comes down

from the mountains, begins to reclaim

its place. fitfully

we sleep and dream of morning

breathing our wordless prayers

for warmth

for the resurrection of spring

for a second new covenant

for one last chance

to do better

December 4, 2019image, photography, poetry

Attending the Breath

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attending the breath

in the first grey light

of this winter morning

the sound of the wind

through the glass, this wind

that was blowing

before breath arose, this wind

that was blowing

before thought arose, this wind

that will blow long

after the very last thought

has blown away

November 11, 2019image, photography, poetry, Uncategorized

laughter and tears

bonesnsnowfall, family, home, laughter, leaves, life, mountains, nature, photography, photos, poems, poetry, relationships, seasons, self, sunset, tears, trees, winter 2 Comments

laughter and tears

we were once shiny, undented.

had baby after baby with limitless

perfect futures. we had answers, speed

and never enough time. we

were accelerating. last night

fall came to this mountain,

the face of the grey man

peering through the glass. this morning

we sit beneath a weakening sun

the leaves blowing about our feet

like so many small broken things.

your hand is warm in mine, and just so

am I blessed — so little survives

beyond laughter and tears.

darkness falls.

the trees across the river

draw down their blood in silence,

brace themselves for winter.

February 17, 2019photography, poetry

the women tell me

bonesnsnowchildren, family, humanity, life, nature, parents, photography, photos, poems, poetry, relationships, women Leave a comment

the women tell me

there is soon to be a baby.

I remember calling my brother

upon the birth of my oldest son.

both of our parents were dead,

and I needed to tell someone — he,

however, seemed unimpressed.

I see this son now grown, bearded

and strong, busy planning their lives together,

as if such a thing were possible.

I can almost feel the life force drifting

like pollen from our branches to theirs,

calling forth small, green buds, the sap

beginning to rise.

the flowering crab in the yard

holds dark, withered fruit fermenting slowly

under a weak winter sun, when a solitary robin,

who should have gone south months ago,

brushes the snow from the branches

and gorges himself on the hard, bitter fruit.

eventually, he grows drunk, drops into flight,

and spinning once in midair, flies straight

into the darkened glass of the window,

then drops to the ground like a stone.

so many deaths

caused by mistaking reflections

for truth, by confusing images

with the unyielding surfaces of life.

the women tell me

there is soon to be a baby.

and we shall welcome her

with indescribable joy. we

will surely be impressed.

we will do our best

to hold her safe, to teach her to see.

we will stand with her by the window

and watch the comings and goings of birds.

perhaps, she will smile and laugh with the birds.

perhaps, with time, she will come to love

these hollow-boned, fragile,

exquisitely mortal, impossible birds.

perhaps, with time,

she might even be the one

who teaches us all how to fly.

	Sharon Sams on what he taught me – esse…
	bonesnsnow on just a dog – on the loss…
	Chris Roon on just a dog – on the loss…
	bonesnsnow on just a dog – on the loss…
	Leslie Kelen on just a dog – on the loss…

old bones, new snow

poetry, images and time

Tag Archives: nature

African Wildlife Photo Collection- Botswana Part 2 (Okavango Delta)

Caught

beyond reason

alone in the dark

Isolation

Isolation

leave the way you came

one last chance

Attending the Breath

laughter and tears

the women tell me