Silver With Possibility

An hour before dawn,

we were packing to leave

on a long road trip.

A cold and silent morning.

The sky was still dark

and strewn with stars.

As we got on the road,

we saw a faint brightening

on the eastern horizon.

And this new day

slowly opened around us,

silver with possibility

© 2026 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Home Fields - Cannonsburg, Michigan

Compass

 

Like the pull of the earth

on a compass needle,

he was drawn in all directions

to explore diverse geographies.

Mountains, plains, deserts.

Rivers, lakes, streams.

Atlantic, Pacific, Great Lakes.

North, South, East, West.

Encouraged by desire.

Motivated to travel.

Restored by hope.

Inspired by the Spirit.

Every road trip,

all the hiking trails,

each photo excursion,

made him feel alive.

Born to be 

a "ramblin' man".

Always leaving,

always gone.

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Home Deck

2. Florence, Arizona

3. Lake Michigan - Grand Haven, Michigan

4. Rocky Mountain National Park - Colorado

5. Atlantic Ocean - Sunset Beach - North Carolina

6. Sandhill Cranes - Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge - New Mexico

States of Mind

High in these Colorado mountains,

we are closer to Heaven.

Low in southwest Florida,

we are closer to the ocean.

Among Utah's red rock formations,

we're surrounded by natural stone sculptures.

Out in Arizona's dry deserts,

we're intrigued by species of cactus.

Home, in Michigan's two peninsulas,

we are proud of our Great Lakes.

Together, among our aging selves,

we are blessed with opportunities to travel.

© 2023 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. West Elk Wilderness - Colorado

2. Arches National Park - Utah

3. Saguaro National Park - east - Arizona

4. Lake Michigan - Michigan

 

Nature Writers

 

 

 

 

Nature Writers

 

 

"Traveling to a strange new landscape is a kind of romance. You become intensely aware of the world where you are, but also oblivious to the rest of the world at the same time. Like love, travel makes you innocent again.


My mind will become a cyclone of intense alertness, in which details present themselves slowly, thoroughly, one at a time. I don't know how to describe what happens  to me when I'm out in 'nature' and 'working'-- it's a kind of rapture -- but it's happened often enough that I know what to expect.


But my prose now seems to locate me among a small tribe often referred to as nature writers. How curious that label is, suggesting as it does that nature is somehow separate from our doings, that nature does not contain us, that it's possible to step outside nature, ... Still, the label is a dignified one, and implies a pastoral ethic that we share, a devotion to the keenly observed detail, and a sense of sacredness. There is a way of beholding nature that is itself a form of prayer."





Excerpt from:

 The Moon By Whale Light   (The Moon By Whale Light)

 by  Diane Ackerman  c 1991