Today I wish to offer more than just a glimmer of hope to all of us, but especially to two friends in the shape of two poems that are not mine, and various glimmering photos.
.
G
l
i
m
m
e
r
.
o
f
.
h
o
p
e
.
But first, a little riddle for all of you. What is this that I captured last night if I promise you that it’s not a virus? The answer will be revealed at the end.

The first man is Patrick Jennings, the host of this challenge, who right about now is travelling from Arizona back home to Vancouver by car. Today’s second and final leg of his travel will take him almost twelve hours. I wish him happy homecoming.
The first poem was recently written by Nadine Anne Hura from Aotearoa, New Zealand. (She posted it on Facebook.) I’m quite certain not only Patrick will like it.
Rest now, e Papatūānuku
Breathe easy and settle
Right here where you are
We’ll not move upon you
For awhile
We’ll stop, we’ll cease
We’ll slow down and stay home
Draw each other close and be kind
Kinder than we’ve ever been.
I wish we could say we were doing it for you
as much as ourselves
But hei aha
We’re doing it anyway
It’s right. It’s time.
Time to return
Time to remember
Time to listen and forgive
Time to withhold judgment
Time to cry
Time to think
About others
Remove our shoes
Press hands to soil
Sift grains between fingers
🍃 Gentle palms
Time to plant
Time to wait
Time to notice
To whom we belong
For now it’s just you
And the wind
And the forests and the oceans and the sky full of rain
Finally, it’s raining!
Ka turuturu te wai kamo o Rangi ki runga i a koe
Embrace it
This sacrifice of solitude we have carved out for you
He iti noaiho – a small offering
People always said it wasn’t possible
To ground flights and stay home and stop our habits of consumption
But it was
It always was.
We were just afraid of how much it was going to hurt
– and it IS hurting and it will hurt and continue to hurt
But not as much as you have been hurt.
So be still now
Wrap your hills around our absence
Loosen the concrete belt cinched tight at your waist
Rest.
Breathe.
Recover.
Heal –
And we will do the same.
Before we have a look at the other man and the other poem, a little teaser regarding my riddle. No, it’s not a lamp. Neither am I pregnant, as was my sister’s first guess. 😀

The second man’s name is Olly Crick and today he celebrates his grand birthday as if in company with organic roast and prosecco, enjoying a slower pace of life.
I already shared with you his poem that he wrote about my blog. And then he wrote another, about the black square that Patrick chose for his Pic and a Word challenge two weeks ago. He posted it in a comment to my Untaken is taken post for this challenge.
Here it is. By Olly Crick:
there will be birds who, known to show
the tricks of flight to passers by,
may land again
in your black square
but not today.
there will be pelicans, beaks too full
of history books and verse,
who will offload
in your black square,
but not today
there will be cameras and friends,
peach trees, gnocchi, and rough wine
laid on benches
in your black square
but not today
there is anger, tempered by good sense
that holds the future and its treats
in store,
that holds the tricks of flight
beakfulls of joy and such like fun,
as toys to wait for from saint nick,
and as the sun heads for its summer
we will wait for christmas,
with hope
in our black square.
Thank you so much, Olly! Here are some photos that you have loved through the years. Happy birthday and many more, and thank you for all the verse!
The moon, so that the square is not all black. In hiding. You don’t fool us. When you need more than one moon. There you go. Better than black. Piran sunsets are quite stunning. Porto Ercole and the Italian big calm. It will return. Ljubljana street life. There is hope. Ljubljana window. One day all cages will open. Trastevere in golden light. My own Etruscan ancestor risen from the tomb in Vetulonia.
And finally, the grand reveal. The mystery object is not the moon but the small dot on the right. And apparently, it’s Venus. My point-and-shoot that you see above can be a telescope.
Far away. So close. It’s your Venus. And now wrap your hills around our absence.
In response to Patrick Jennings’ Pic and a Word Challenge #225: Glimmer
I had that view of the moon and Venus just recently out my window. Great poems, and you can always post photos of the moon! (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, K. I had to google what I was seeing. The first link I found talked about Saturn. Then a friend convinced me it was Venus. I can’t believe NaPoWriMo starts in two days. Taking part again? I have a wish.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. I am blogging at kblog.blog since Nina is on hiatus, so you can find me there.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your words and photos are lyrical.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Claudia. Sometimes I let it out a little, this lyricism. It’s lying in wait. I hope you are well. I’m sure you don’t have it in you to be bored.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We are safe at home and doing well. My days are not much different from usual, except for not going to the grocery or the library (which I am very much missing). I have organized projects here and try to stay immersed in them as much as I can.
LikeLiked by 1 person
These are beautiful. I do hope this all will end soon so we can go back to our lives.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, Bojana, thank you. I hope that the suffering stops, but I don’t hope for us to go back to our lives. Alarm clock spoils everything. It really makes us think.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hope, hope, hope.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was sure you had a pizza stuck on your window! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hihih, Lexi!
LikeLike
That was so nice. I really liked the hope in your writing. We do go on. I also really like your reflection and that mural with the pipe 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Joey. 🙂 Neither poem is by me, I just hope this is clear. But yes, go on we must.
LikeLike