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    Collage
    Collage
    Collage
    Ebook156 pages1 hour

    Collage

    By Sally Hendee

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    About this ebook

    Collage

    a mix of prose, poetry and art, each creating its own emotional texture. The pieces in this publication were composed with the intention of pleasing the reader, both visually and rhythmically, through a variety of subjects and format.



    Cover and inside artwork: Sally Hendee
    Photographs: Sally Hendee
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateJul 30, 2013
    ISBN9781481766692
    Collage
    Author

    Sally Hendee

    Sally Hendee was born and raised in New Jersey. Family summers were spent in upstate New York, on Lake Ontario. That is where her love of nature and its simple beauty were nurtured. Sally was the last of six children and though they are spread throughout the country, her ever-expanding family still remains close at heart. After working in the medical field for over thirty years, she has retired and now is able to live where her heart has always longed, upstate New York. She is the mother of two children and grandmother of three.

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      Book preview

      Collage - Sally Hendee

      © 2013 Sally Hendee. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse 07/23/2013

      ISBN: 978-1-4817-6665-4 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4817-6669-2 (e)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2013911086

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

      and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Table of Contents

      A City Holiday Venture

      Autumn’s Flight

      The Beauty in Its Sadness

      Black Bart

      Blancophobia

      Blossoming

      Child of Night

      Crow Winter

      Crows

      Dawnscape

      Fall Forward

      Flight

      Flight of the Butterfly

      Fragrance

      Grounds for Divorce?

      Humbly, I Am Tree

      Keeping Time With Time

      Life on the Road

      Maple Moon

      Memory’s Lane

      Natural Causes

      Parents

      Piano Concerto in Machias Church

      Sage Sight

      Serenade

      Shoveling Crocus

      Signs of Life

      Spring’s Return

      Yesterday’s Walk on a Country Road

      That Same Country Road I Walked Tonight

      The Fish’s Flight

      The Flock Of Phoenix

      The Purse

      The Rain

      Together Alone

      Values of Dark

      Yarrow

      A Leaf’s Flight

      The Auction

      August

      Finding the Robin

      Frost on the Pumpkins

      Heirlooms

      Heron

      Lifelines

      Lilac Time

      Loss of Power

      Lunacy

      Meadow Grass Ode

      Ode of a Pensive Tree With Intentions of Branching Out

      The Twittering Response of a Warbling Poet

      Season Serenade

      Signs of Leaves Leaving

      I’ve Walked in the Woods

      A Fading Glow in Summer

      A Choice of Words

      My Life With Father

      Downhill Racer

      The Christmas Closet

      View From The Pier/Ever Waiting

      Rainy Day

      The Weaver

      A Young Boy’s Prayer

      Life Waltz

      Sweet, Young Things Grew

      The Place Beneath a Breath

      Time After Time

      House Talk

      Dancing on My Father’s Shoes

      Ghost

      Fog 3

      The Stream

      Chasing Rainbows

      Dedication:

      I would like to acknowledge the loving support of my family and friends who made this book possible with their hours of listening and helpful comments, and to Marianna Knowles, whose talent and patience helped put it into print.

      A City Holiday Venture

      Streams of temporary recruits waited on the corners—armies with the goal of crossing a bridge of white lines as a guide to the other side.

      The opposing force marched toward us. Two jagged columns—some four, some five abreast—met us, mingled, and then we penetrated each other with an exchange of positions, where we found other cohorts collected for the next encounter.

      We forged the wide, restless river of traffic, dodging and standing off the frustrated fenders and honking horns of errant drivers too anxious to wait any longer behind the lines. I never looked directly into the eyes of those who pushed their machines, stopping dangerously close to our hems. (The stories of avoiding direct optic contact when in the presence of a wild animal came to mind.)

      New York City was not just buzzing and clanking with the normal urban activities. It was ringing, sparkling and bustling with a great stew of mankind. You could tell some of the visitors, as they bumped into you with heads raised and tilted back— a troop of necks and under-chins that passed without ever knowing we had shared an instant in their lives while they reveled in the wonders of a decorated city.

      The chill in the air and the drafts that channeled through the concrete canyons made everyone step lively. The uneven sound of innumerable pairs of shoes making contact with the sidewalk and street, created the impression of shuffling decks of cards.

      Steam wisped and puffed up from beneath the behemoth landscape of buildings and grids of avenues, smelling like dirty dishwater. Strangely, it was not offensive, but expected, as if not having smelled it would have made the visit incomplete.

      Smudgy smoke that struck us as we passed the carts of pretzel and roasted chestnuts joined forces with the steam, making it cling for hours to the lining of our noses….unmistakable essence as proof of our walked blocks that night.

      We entered St. Patrick’s Cathedral and paid respects to the memories of former walks on past holidays with loved ones. Religion was still alive in the great structure, even though I no longer participated in spiritual ceremonies under a roof. One could not help but be in wonder of the beauty and glory displayed and depicted in every aspect of its grand architecture. I recalled the awe as a child and the language of the church that had taken me twelve years to master with my missal, only to be dropped in exchange for guitars and revealed mysteries. I left feeling that my religious instincts were still intact. There were still places that had holiness in spite of a world that was closing in around them.

      Rockefeller Center shone with Seraphim in rows holding golden trumpets, a gargantuan tree that could be seen from any point around the plaza and a music/light show that was cast on the surface of a building on Fifth Avenue. Syncronized music made the show spectacular as crowds collected to watch the extravagant display.

      The joyous, holiday energy was tossed back and forth among the masses of people that passed each other, occasionally pausing with an offer to take our picture or share a visual experience. It is unlike being packed in an elevator with a bunch of strangers. That has a different set of rules and discomforts….don’t ask me why, it just does. No, these are crowds that gather to exchange pleasantries and share the experience—an instant camaraderie that is hard to define.

      The store windows were alive with animation. We stopped to admire the beauty and colors that made some of them hard to take in all at once. We, who were dressed in substantial jackets, gloves, and very sensible shoes—- stood next to opulently dressed, fur clad, mini skirted, stilt-heeled shoes that made my feet ache to look at. Where had they been? Where were they going? Surely they were not out strolling in these clothes.

      When that night started, it took us well over an hour in the traffic and tunnel to reach our destination, but as we made our way around the city, I never gave it a thought. It was —-and always is, a thrill to be part of the energy and flow of New York City, even on an ordinary, far-from-ordinary day there.

      Those people that shared this year’s trip to the city and those that were part of our wonderful holiday junket along her streets and avenues,

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