Gone Swimmin'

I got up early Saturday morning to be able 

to get to a swim meet on time. Afraid I'd sleep through 

the electronic beep of my radio alarm, 

I hadn't slept much the night before, so I was up

at 5 a.m., showered, had breakfast, made certain

my backpack had all the stuff I needed,

then left to catch the 5:45 bus.

A few minutes later, the bus rolled up, a giant

black box on wheels that held its light inside,

a lantern I could sit inside as the beacon

made its way downtown.

After transferring to a second bus

I arrived at an intersection where I walked

a few blocks east to the Ruth Lilly
Recreation Center found an outside entrance 
to the pool then sat down to watch the U of I
swim team's morning practice. 
On the way, I saw a lot of sculptures
dotting the campus grounds, some of them swooping
into space, others coming out of the ground,
as though born there.
The just emerging dawn lent a fresh feel
to the atmosphere and I felt as though I was
the first to see the world that day,
clean and new, unspoiled by greed and
current events.

Warmer, With Rain

Saturday, the sun appeared, muted and pastel, 

surrounded by wisps of clouds

in lavender and mauve, while contrails

darted across the sky, bursting 

streaks of pink and coral.

This morning, the clouds roll in,

blue-black ink spreading across wet paper,

pouring their color over the land.

Going Forward ...

The day is so dreary it almost seems 

as if the sun forgot to rise.

The sky is thick with clouds,

a puffy quilt between us and the blue sky.

I am waiting, waiting for a phone call

to make an appointment for an interview, 

waiting for the workman who's supposed 

to fix a problem in my apartment.

The cat ran away when he came.

We couldn't find her, so now I'm waiting 

to have the work rescheduled and,
needless to say, I am waiting for 
my silly cat to reappear 
at some point in the next few hours
from a secret nook she's found.

Waiting.

What is the difference between waiting

and patience? So far this week,

I've missed two opportunities to swim

through waiting. It seems that patience is putting

in the work towards a desired result,

while waiting is putting oneself at the mercy

of others' whims and schedules.

My swimming is teaching me that I need to

be patient because it takes time to 

reach a goal. However, the act of waiting

takes away my control over a situation.
I am nervous and bored with waiting because
I want to be in the pool, swimming
towards a goal.

Golden Light

The morning light sneaked in between the taller buildings, 

shining its golden light on the limestone facade 

of the Federal Court Building. In between the posts of the railing,

chrysanthemums looked to have been put in an urn --

positive or negative space?

Pleats and Dashes and Wiggles

At the intersection of Ohio and Meridian Streets 

last Saturday, I looked to my left to see 

a bunch of lines, angles, and pleats. 

They reflected and and intersected with each other 

to create interesting shapes and patterns.

Even the dashed lines marking the pedestrian path

seemed to lead from one series of lines

on the building, to similar patterns on yet another

just across the street. 

Warm Glow, Cold Breeze

It was really chilly this morning. 

I decided to stop at a coffee shop between buses 

on my way to my Saturday morning swimming session.

At the coffee shop, I had a lox and bagel sandwich

for breakfast, a treat I savor. 

The buses were all on detour due to a special event

and, needing time to find the stop for the diverted route,

I left the shop about fifteen minutes early.

I saw the buildings surrounding the Circle bathed

in warm, early morning sunlight that contrasted 

sharply with the cold gusts of wind 

swirling through the city streets. 

Rotunda

During the early fall, when the sun rises on the State Capitol 

rotunda, it turns the limestone and copper the most brilliant shades 

of orange. I rarely get to see those moments and count myself

fortunate the sun appeared from between the taller

buildings just a block or two away.

Those buildings house banks and insurance companies,

all of which would block reason as surely as they would block 

the sun to gain financial advantage for themselves.

Sunny Reflections

Clouds moved in as the sun rose over the Coke Field 

 casting rich, seductive color over the landscape.

I turned around to see that the clouds had 

allowed the sun to take a peek at its reflection 

in the creek. What it saw was a pool of liquid gold, 

undulating through the field, at the beginning 

of a long trip to the Mississippi River.

Saturday Morning, 7:30 A.M. or So

The colors vary according to the seasons, but even in the winter, 

they are rich and compelling. The Speedway takes care 

of the Coke Field, mowing it regularly and cleaning up trash.

But stuff gets thrown in the creek, gathering just behind 

me against a pylon sticking out of the water.

All this color, of the sort that inspired the weavers of

long-ago tapestries. All this beauty from

a fucking drainage ditch.

I did hit the "Auto Contrast" button in Photoshop, but that was it.

 The color was all there, if you took the time to wait for it.

My response to question 83.

November Theme Day: Water's Edge

The day I took this the clouds were moving in to hide 

the bright sun. I turned to look over the little bridge at the Coke Field, 

where the sun reflected off the water so brightly it drove the plants 

at water's edge into shadows and silhouette.

Today is Theme Day for the members of the 

City Daily Photo community of bloggers.

Here are other interpretations of the theme,

made by photographers from all over the world.

  

Reflected Glory

The sidewalks in the park were still wet and the sun still bright 

when a patch of gold light shown from a shallow puddle, 

spreading its warmth onto the walk like an aura. 

I looked around and found the tree whose reflection it was, 

basking proudly in the sun. 

Cold and Wet Day, I'm Inside

Leaves are given their beauty by nature, 

they change color, fall into pleasing compositions,

 attracting sequins and light to emphasize

all their best features. 

Fall Crystals

I particularly enjoy the mornings when I get out 

to find that the dew hasn't yet baked off the flowers.

These were taken along the Central Canal.

Twining

These delicate stalks spent their summer climbing 

toward the sun, bending to Nature's whim,

their stems forging delicate descriptions of their twining,

showing the record of their journey in the winter light.

Delicate. Slender. Strong.

I suppose this may be the diary of the Coke Field's plants,

the barren stems, stalks and trees the sepia-toned

record of  the now-dormant field, waiting for a new chapter

to be written in the coming spring.

The cold air had me heading down to my corner

Starbucks for an eggnog latte, a treat in this

Christmas season. Ummm, happiness.