Best wishes,
Danna
Red Angel - Danna. Mixed-media collage/digital painting.Where We Live
Danna
A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it. -George Moore
House
The house sits far back from the infidel road, named for the two gentile families that settled along it over one hundred years ago. A wide expanse of lawn is punctuated with Oak, Pine, Linden, and host to birds of every variety: owl, dove, crow, hummingbird. The occasional peacock, ibis and crane are particular favorites. Behind the calculus of the structure and lives sheltering within the rooms, a wheat field covered in a light scurf of snow is flanked by a country lane populated with Globe Willow, Pine, Maple, and Honey Locust, each planted for the farmer and his wife’s seven children. The middle daughter’s tree is a tangle of branches armed with sharp, flat thorns.
Tree
The tree was once rooted in the memorial park next to railroad tracks and was planted in memoriam the year the Jazz Age began to swing. In springs’ long past, waxwings would swarm the Mountain Ash and feast on its berries until drunk and fall to the ground, their tiny hearts swollen and giddy. The tree is gone now, cut down and his memory replanted with a sapling, but the soul is a restless traveler and will not be contained by flesh.
Body
The body is a destination imagined in the soft hue of morning light as a glimmering on the horizon. The body is a being composed of organic and trace elements, proteins, lipids, salts and sugars, a dual snake helixing around its secret code. Within its borders it holds the mysteries of the soul.
Home
Home is house, tree, body. Home asks to be opened, its heart grateful to be held in gentle hands.
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