Photo © Rivo TarumVisit his website to see additional photos.
Rivo lives in Estonia and specializes in nature photography.
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"Mayfly might have only one day to live,
but she enjoys every moment,
observing all the life around her,
and rejoicing in her own.
As she soars over the sky at dawn
she bathes in the golden light,
and she dances to the music of the universe."
"Mayfly might have only one day to live,
but she enjoys every moment,
observing all the life around her,
and rejoicing in her own.
As she soars over the sky at dawn
she bathes in the golden light,
and she dances to the music of the universe."
(From Mayfly Day by Jeanne Willis)
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Copyrighted photo used with permission from Rivo Tarum
Copyrighted photo used with permission from Rivo Tarum
7 comments:
wonderful photo.
Today I imerged from my cacoon
The first breath I breathed
was sweet.
My wings soared effortlessly.
So high I fly.
The breeze played a tune
it sounds so sweet
is this music?
In this magical world
what can i touch
in this one day.
I will aim for the stars.
Passchendaele
20,000 swarmed the ridge
Attacking from across the great water
Over 15,000 dead and wounded
There in the mud
The "Canadian Soldier"
A name of honour
So I thought
A name that's only used
South of the Great Lakes
In jest
Mocking a tiny air force
Invading from the North
Small
Ineffective
More worthy of amusement than action
But I remember Passchendaele
Where 20,000 swarmed the ridge
Attacking from across the great water
Where 15,000 were wounded or died
Where they took the ridge
When nobody else could
The Canadian Soldier
How many men envy the shadfly?
How many men would trade their lives
For 24 hours of passionate glory?
How many men would change their minds
If they knew
The adult male shadfly is doubly endowed
A simple fly is
Twice the man that they are
WHEN DAY IS DONE
Oh wondrous day! Oh joyful day!
My life has just begun.
Eighty-six thousand seconds,
To do what must be done.
One day may seem too short,
For those whose lives are long,
But it's enough for me,
They're looking at it wrong.
In just one day, I'll do the thing,
That nature says I must,
And at day's end I'll go to sleep,
Then turn back into dust.
I remember when Tommy saw his first Mayfly. "What is that, mommy?" he asked me. He was trying to touch it, but it was on the other side of the window. And, even on tip toes, Tommy was too short to reach it. "That's a Mayfly," I told him. "They are very special, Tommy." "Mayflies usually live for one day."
I don't think he understood. Tommy had only experienced death once in his short life, and I had lied to him. "Jumper ran away," I had said. "He went back home to his pond."
Tommy never questioned me, and I was relieved. But, guilty.
It was a Mayfly summer. We were bombarded with them, and Tommy shrieked with delight everytime he saw one. He thought they looked like little angels.
I saw a Mayfly today. It was hanging on to the screen outside my kitchen window. Hanging on for dear life. Hanging on for another hour, another minute. A little angel with translucent wings. Keep my boy safe, little one. Fly to him on a distant star.
Gossamer wings
Showing things
Behind and underneath
Filtering light
Blurring colors
But not concealing
Just hinting
Revealing more than what they're hiding
But where is the mayfly
Is it there
Is it real
Is it something
Of is it just what is behind it
Does it disappear to what is beneath
Gossamer wings flitting
Blending
Disappearing
Diminishing to nothing
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