Ghost Of Bison Past

After days of arctic cold, ambient temperature moderates into the forties. Wished-for snows have not come to pass. Cloudless skies and brisk airs invite an early afternoon ramble through woodland quietude.

Low-hanging sun casts long shadows across leaf litter. The play of light and shadow invites imagination to take flight into days of yore, where American Bison still roam the Piedmont Plateau. Time and again silence of the wood cedes dominion to the thunder of their cloven hooves, rumbling male bellows during mating season and anxious bleating of calves away from their mother.

In mind’s eye I return to their heyday. Millions roam our continent. My heart is heavy as I pay homage to the iconic beasts at a decaying tree stump shaped like a bovine skull—a fitting allegory of their disgraceful near extermination.

© Ilija Lukić 2020

Ghost Of Bison Past
(photo impressionism)

Wintertide

With bated breath Old Man Winter spent autumn on boreal throne. As he readies for a full-blown return into the Carolinas, his aloof moans of displeasure with lingering fall colors hitch a ride on southbound winds.

North wind’s ice-cold minions tussle tree tops.

Their raw breath chills man and beast to the bone.

Bar none, life longs for spring among Sundrops,

Yet gives thumbs up to Jack Frost’s wintry tone.

© Ilija Lukić 2020

Old Man Winter

Choosing Oblivion

Meandering through nearly leafless woodland, I chance upon a motley scattering of leaves flashing winks of approval for their designated role in the fabric of time. I ponder their place on the wheel of life and consignment to oblivion within leaf litter on the forest floor. Turning deaf ear to downhearted musings my heart proposes about such divine decree, I allow mind's eye to explore upbeat parallels in my life by not dwelling on ghosts of lifetime past.

Weather-beaten, out of mind, left behind

Clinging to bare branch of ancestral tree,

Unremembered, yet warily I bear in mind,

When by design oblivious, I'm free!

With many moments of our lives willfully shared, surreptitiously tracked, needlessly documented and often exploited electronically, choosing oblivion to slow accelerating pandemonium of contemporary society unshackles introspection and gives breathing room to the waning art of eye to eye interaction. Such ventures nurture the best qualities of humanity.

© Ilija Lukić 2020

Ghosts Of Lifetime Past

Choosing Oblivion

Swan Song

With tender gestures autumn bids goodbye.

Soft-hued ambiance whispers fond so long
Midst lighthearted quietus and thereby
Brightens spirit with uplifting swan song.

© Ilija Lukić 2020

Swan Song

Peace Of Mind

Cooper and I step out for a quick outing into 25-degree airs at the crack of dawn. Touches of frost on grasses and leaf litter bear out the chilled breath of early winter. While Cooper takes a look-see, I surrender senses to the quietude. In short order the nippy conditions call for a retreat to the comforts of home, where before long I wax poetic.

Beaver Moon lights night

Hearth smoke drifts on calm night air

Pause, feel peace of mind

© Ilija Lukić 2020

Peace Of Mind
(Cooper on woodland trail near Pittsboro NC USA)