master bias leaning

Snowy Owl Invasion Pt. 2

masterbias — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 01:43:33 +0000

The snowy owl invasion is now in video form! The Cornell Lab of Ornithology explains the bird’s recent migration south in this amazing narration featuring video and photography by Gerrit Vyn. You don’t want to miss this!

Thanks Owl Moon!

CORNELL LAB OF ORNITHOLOGY

Praying by Mary Oliver

masterbias — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 07:35:55 +0000

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

Roadside Sacrament

masterbias — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 05:42:42 +0000

Crisp morning
Twilight
Roadside
The Great Horned one
Partakes of his sacrament
Opened and delivered by
The FedEx truck

Cat & Red Paint

masterbias — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 01:44:58 +0000

Cat & Red Paint, originally uploaded by Cliff Hanks.

Tree, Snow, Shadow

masterbias — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 06:42:15 +0000

Tree, Snow, Shadow, originally uploaded by Cliff Hanks.

Perhaps I can bring the snow by posting some old photos of snow.

XXIX (Emily Dickinson)

masterbias — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 06:10:04 +0000

DOWN Time’s quaint stream
Without an oar,
We are enforced to sail,
Our Port–a secret–
Our Perchance–a gale.
What Skipper would
Incur the risk,
What Buccaneer would ride,
Without a surety from the wind
Or schedule of the tide?

Ben + Toni = Photo

masterbias — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 17:19:45 +0000

One-A-Day Photo 12-26-11, originally uploaded by Cliff Hanks.

Housecat

masterbias — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 08:17:18 +0000

stealth behind stubble
flirts with ferality

Little Boy Running from Christmas

masterbias — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 00:57:49 +0000

Little Boy Running from Christmas, originally uploaded by Cliff Hanks.

December 19th. One-A-Day Photo

Sometimes I Am Startled Out of Myself (by Barbara Crooker)

masterbias — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 04:51:40 +0000

like this morning, when the wild geese came squawking,
flapping their rusty hinges, and something about their trek
across the sky made me think about my life, the places
of brokenness, the places of sorrow, the places where grief
has strung me out to dry. And then the geese come calling,
the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place.
Hope is borne on wings. Look at the trees. They turn to gold
for a brief while, then lose it all each November.
Through the cold months, they stand, take the worst
weather has to offer. And still, they put out shy green leaves
come April, come May. The geese glide over the cornfields,
land on the pond with its sedges and reeds.
You do not have to be wise. Even a goose knows how to find
shelter, where the corn still lies in the stubble and dried stalks.
All we do is pass through here, the best way we can.
They stitch up the sky, and it is whole again.

Buy her book “Radiance” here