the neighbors

 

'Minders" 16x16" oil pastel; Kathleen Faulkner

They wait in silence.

patient and stately.

Deadly

The bugs never know what hit them.

significant

 'Wake-robin' 12x12" oil pastel on panel; Kathleen Faulkner

Trillium

a precise and elegant wildflower

so

fragile and shy

 

They always bring up memories

that always make me smile.

ghosts

 

'Ghost Pipes' 12x12" oil pastel on panel; Kathleen Faulkner

My father spotted them for me.

He said they were rare. 

As a child,

that experience left a deep imprint.

I thought I would never see them again

but, every now and then,

I spot the Ghost Pipes. 

the complications of living

'Ghost Pipes' 18x16" oil pastel;  Kathleen Faulkner

If one lives long enough

one says goodbye to many of one's friends.

I've been saying goodbye 

 to friends lately.

Ghosts

'Wildflower earrings' sterling silver; Kathleen Faulkner

When I was a child, my dad and I would hike deep into the wilderness.  He was an obsessed outdoors man, among other things, so I spent a lot of time in forests.  I saw many things during those times: lots of bear,  and one up close and personal,  elk all around me, many elk,  critters,  birds,  old growth forests,  billions of wildflowers and on and on and on.

One time, while hiking, we came upon Ghost Pipes.  Pale, dreamlike fairy tales from some other world.  I was fascinated.  My father said to me, "You'll probably never see these again, they're very rare."

I've thought about them much over the years, how lucky I was to see something so rare and the impression they left,  as if they had become attached to my very being.

One day, while walking in Washington Park,  there they were:  Ghost Pipes!  I was stopped in my tracks, my mind bursting with memories and emotion.  I wanted to shout out, "Hey, Dad,  Look!  Ghost Pipes!  After all these years I finally see them again!"  Instead I only thought it.

Maybe ghosts see and hear everything, even thoughts if we want them to..