A fallen season

I offer you this evening a little painting that bears a Haiku on its back.

This was not what I set out to do, of course, but that is what makes working with alcohol inks so very interesting. They often seem to tell me what needs to be painted rather than the other way around.

The ink on the paper then becomes a sort of Rorschach, bringing forth a tiny poem.

In this case, I had begun thinking that perhaps I should design a Christmas card for this year but my ink reprimanded me, reminding me that we are only now just approaching the end of the liturgical year.

Outside, most of the leaves and petals have dropped, leaving barren branches and stems. Birds peck old flower heads for remaining seeds that failed to escape and hide in nature’s compost.

It is not yet the season for a Birth. It is a fallen season…

IMG_20151119_0001

(I will also post a few autumnal images at oholyearth.com to further celebrate our fallen season.)

2 thoughts on “A fallen season

  1. albert

    I found this poem too, or it found me as I read your post, Mary. It might be called “Compost.” Or maybe not. Maybe just “Outside.” Then again. . .

    *

    Most of the leaves and petals
    have dropped, leaving
    barren branches and stems.

    Birds peck old flower heads
    for seeds that failed to escape
    and hide in nature’s compost.

    It is not yet the season
    for a Birth. It is
    a fallen season…

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