Monday, November 22, 2021


Sunset On The Last Day Of Hunting Season

What deer still remain are far back in the woods by now.
They count their losses.  The others count
their trophies.  The score is even.
It's always a tie in the duality game.

Small Ponds 

Small ponds freeze first,
in the beginning, with just a film
at sunrise you wouldn't even
notice and then a crust
that lasts till noon.  Now half-sunk slush
doesn't melt and the conspiracy of molecules
spreads to lakes.  In the stillness
of a single night, when one breath
of wind might make the difference
between water and ice, solid reaches in and in
and grasps the last ripple for its own.

Vision Statement

Imagine swans
                       with black wingtip
           soaring in wedges,
wheeling on a sullen sky –

Imagine these snow geese
                       in late November
           scouting out a plausible lake
just before freeze-up –

Imagine we, too,
                       are that beautiful,
           streaming transparence,
aloft and countless,

heading home.

Joan Ruvinsky
Photos:  Peter Bowers

Joan Ruvinsky and Peter Bowers

her many faces
and none at all