Photography: Dillon Beach

“I am a tiny seashell
that has secretly drifted ashore
and carries the sound of the ocean
surging through its body.”
—Edward Hirsch

Sometimes a place can be familiar to you but still hold secrets. People are like this too. I look for what is true. What is real. That’s where magic lives.

On this beach trip, the ocean was angry. It pounded the shore and never receded enough to reveal the tide pools. The beauty took my breath away. Come with me.


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  • Photos were taken with Olympus OM-D  and edited with ON1 Photo RAW

poetry: moonset

masked moonlight wakes me
pulling dreams backward, inward
pulling body forward, outward
five steps and I’m outside
bare feet on weathered wood
yes, moon, what do you want
watch me descend, it says
casting legato light across waves
as sapient stars nod, blinking in agreement
what else can I do but listen

opalescent ocean dances below
sings softly of forgetting
or is it forgiving
maybe it wants me to bleed
shedding mawkish memories
dance, move, swing your arms
let go, it calls
can it be so simple

silver moon transforms
briefly mimics sunlight 
before sinking
below the waves
below the horizon
below my pained core
with a final golden gasp
it calls out to me
yes, I hear you

folding, folding
I tuck the words inside—
my moonset gift
swaying, swaying
I rock with the waves
under billowy blankets
until morning comes


Note: Both of these photos are of the moon setting at around 1 a.m. If you look closely in the second one you might see stars.

poetry: town

nobody cried when sweet smoke
arrived. we soot danced, our eyes
half-open, bodies ash-drunk
on sugar promises plucked
endlessly on old guitar

strings. winding streets slowly filled
with smoke, siren calling hearts
to believe not our choking
breath, but it. singing praises
like honey symphonies, words

of control. hushing words. lies
laying beneath. it quick burns
papery thin childlike-hope 
into dying embers. we 
believe it all until you 

speak. standing atop stacked rocks
bright hair blowing, tender eyes
locked on us, you say “listen
to the wind.” we do. it bends
flowers, stops dragonflies, sings

towns alive. go—sweep floors, hug 
trees, wipe ash from foreheads,
clean water, move air. listen
to stone, earth, plant. grab my hand
tight. don’t ever let me go.


Note: Is this poem inspired by Barbenheimer? Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

poetry: twisted

12/30

sunbeams trace old
memories. twists
delighted joy
with fractured limbs.
freckled shoulders
brush tenderly

against his rough
bark. together
we weather all
shadows. bright green
hardened layers 
protecting soft

insides. heal our
cracking skin. mend
bleeding sap. climb
higher into
branches, always
bending toward light.


More short poems:
1/30: not my cat
2/30: comfort
3/30: ache
4/30: remember
5/30: graduation
6/30: big love
7/30: Heavy and light
8/30: delicate
9/30: leaping
10/30: Dad gave me…
11/30: solstice

Poetry: Daffodil

sleepy round bulbs wake
as straight green arrows
tipped in bright yellow
aimed at the sky

you ask me questions
teary-eyed, red-cheeked
as sunlight paints stripes
across our bare feet

without answers, I deflect
making tiny clover bouquets—
thankful treasures fit for
all the garden fairies

we hold hands as
spring’s regal heralds rise
unfurling their tucked beauty—
sun within a sun

we dilly-dally dance
dreaming of hammock naps
doves building new nests
sweet lil strawberry babies

we stuff our pockets
with tomorrows and tomorrows
while hummingbirds dart by
and fresh raindrops fall


Our first daffodil opened this week and it inspired this short poem. I hope you enjoyed it.

Photography: Morning Walk

“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

I’ve found a new walking path near my house which is kinder to my healing hip. There are beautiful old trees, a view of the mountains, lots of birds, and a pond with ducks. I’m grateful for the beauty it contains and the gentle slopping path I can walk and think.

My childhood best friend lost her father recently. He was like a father to me too, a loving and beautiful man who loved to fix and collect things. I’m working on a poem to honor him, but it’s not ready yet. Instead, I decided to do another photo post this week and share my special place with you.

May you find a moment of peace today.


  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW

52 Photo Challenge: Week 5-Texture

“When I was a kid I believed everything I was told, everything I read, and every dispatch sent out by my own overheated imagination. This made for more than a few sleepless nights, but it also filled the world I lived in with colors and textures I would not have traded for a lifetime of restful nights.”
― Stephen King

Welcome back to the 52-week photo challenge. This week our assignment was to capture texture, which is something I naturally look for when taking photos. My daughter and I visited a park near our house and the sun was really too bright. While I got a variety of shots, I was ultimately disappointed with my offerings. The colors were either over-exposed or simply too bright. The images below are the ones I could salvage and edit.

I can only share one photo with the challenge group. I’m leaning toward either the lichen or the oily water shot. Which photo do you think best illustrates texture? Thanks as always for cheering me on and have a wonderful week.


NOTE: To my regular followers, life has been a bit on the stressful side lately. As a result, you may see me posting two posts a week for a while instead of three. Thank you for your love and understanding.

  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
  • If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com.

52 Photo Challenge: Week 4-Motion Blur

“Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it. Make your mistakes, next year and forever.” -Neil Gaiman

Welcome back to the 52-week photo challenge. This week our assignment was to photograph motion blur, which was something I’d never attempted before. I was required to get more comfortable with using my camera in manual mode and to use a slow shutter speed. Mistakes were made. Lots of them.

While most of my photos were an epic failure, I did learn a lot. Next time I’ll need to buy or borrow a tripod and perhaps a flash. So many of these images are so close to being good but are blurred in places I don’t want them to be. Not quite there. I went out twice (once during the day and once at night) and these are the best images I was able to capture. While I love the one with my daughter, I think the one with the fire is the best example of motion blur. Let me know what you think.

Thanks as always for cheering me on and have a wonderful day!



Here are some bonus photos not using motion blur also taken this week:

  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
  • If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com.

Poetry: Strawberry Tree

You’ve lived nestled along
our side fence—undiscovered
until now. Touching your
water-soaked trumpet flowers
I marvel at how

perfect you are. Why
didn’t I see your
blushing bright cardinal-red 
berries as more than
background noise? How could

I miss your intoxicating
honey-rich smell? Ancient
Rome called you good
luck charms, could you
be what I’ve searched

for—an answer disguised
as hidden treats plopped
into my aching hungry 
mouth? Gritty, muted treasures—
arbutus gems. Help me

truly

see.

Poetry: Frosty

Crystalized tears form soft
uneven lines around youthful
forgiving skin. Bright veins 
turn brittle, trapped beneath 
unspoken truths—too many

days passed under harsh
sunlight. Hollow flowery voices
drowned out by chickadee
songs erupt into icy
frozen maps leading lost

souls nowhere. Glowing warmth
melts away glassy biting
shards—pieces of us
grown frigid. Numbed by
quiet moonless nights, we’ve

wilted.