Author: James Vespoli

Writer, Photographer, and Managing Operator of Wild Cape Press LLC

Categories
Nature Photography Nature Poetry

The Breath is in Every Sway

The crisp Autumn air, 

Danced across my skin with velveteen flair,

Angry clouds rustled the pastel sky, 

As my mind wandered to times gone by. 

 

I thought of autumn evenings just like this,

Those who marveled at them in bucolic bliss,

I thought, why any would want to cause it to go amiss? 

 

Only one word shot into my mind,

almighty progress with her iron fist, 

Crushing all that is gentle, charming, and good, 

Churning bucolic farms,  

With fields, lakes, and wood,

To concrete, steel, and soot. 

 

Then I looked out over the fields sublime, 

And thought there must be something divine, 

That crafted this beauty before all time. 

 

Going on my way, 

I could swear I heard the trees say,

That there is the breath in every sway.
Categories
Nature Photography Nature Poetry

A Glorious Morning


A glint of the rising sun,
Lights up the amber sky,
Heavens glory in the blink of an eye.
A heart pierced by beauty won. 

Trodding along the mountain pass,
Time seemed to slow,
As I took in Nature’s Mass,
The gentle light made the river glow.

This holy moment not to last,
Against the tempests of mornings past,
Onward, onward with a providential blast.
Categories
Nature Photography Nature Poetry

Autumn’s Golden Shore

There was a time I sat reclined,
Sitting on the shore sublime,
Gazing at that deep ocean divine.

The gentle autumn breeze, 
Made time pass with elegant ease,
There was nothing it could not appease.

A moment of simple bliss,
Oh, only if all could be like this,
Gentle as a roses kiss. 

But simple days they did not last,
For the winds of change came hard and fast,
Causing beauty to be in the past.

Now, as I scurry here and there,
Life with challenges to bear,
I wish for nothing but to be there.

On that golden autumn shore,
Feeling cool winds from the deep azure,
Enraptured by its beauty evermore.
Categories
Nature Photography Nature Poetry

The River’s Flow

I cast my line into the river’s flow,
The water teeming with a golden glow,
As the leaves shook in the autumn winds that blow.

Scarlett and gold leaves shroud the sky,
Reminding me of things gone by,
One by one, they fall to the river rushing by. 

Though in this moment of reflection,
One might be carried to perplexion, 
By such beauty and sublime perfection. 

Yet my thoughts were keenly order,
That I am only a simple border,
Of this world and its order.