Weekly Photo Challenge: Time

Time can seem endless, and yet pass so swiftly at the same time.

Some creatures’ lives are so short and yet so much changes during the time they live.

This is a caterpillar of the Drinker Moth, spotted in the garden in January:

IMG_0965-Edit
Drinker Moth caterpillar

It’s hard to believe that after some time passes it becomes this fluffy moth (photo taken in July a couple of years back).

edit-4388-Edit
Adult Drinker Moth

 

edit-4387-Edit
Adult Drinker Moth

As well as butterflies and moths, one of my favourite insects undergoes a dramatic transformation over time. Dragonflies spend a large proportion of their lives underwater (one or two years usually) and then when their time in that form is up, they emerge from the water and burst out of their larval shape. They blossom into the amazing, beautiful winged form I know and love, and spend the rest of their days in flight, bringing wonder to all who see them.

IMG_3829-Edit
Empty casing from a newly emerged Dragonfly
IMG_7965-Edit
A friendly Common Darter

And just because this is my blog and I can do what I want… here’s my most favourite photo I’ve ever taken of a dragonfly 🙂

19790760452_52d852124b_o
I love this photo so much
(This photograph is available for purchase as a digital download)

Inspired by the Weekly Photo Challenge: Time

Advertisements

peace

time takes
a brisk walk
I skip and hop
to keep up
puffing cloud breaths
in cold winter air
~
just yesterday
spring arrived
minutes passed
in summer
now festivities
rush
~
my desire
to pause
like a raindrop
poised on a leaf edge
as time
slows to treacle
to sit
and in sitting
be at peace

days

where do the days go
the slippery slidey days
trickling away
into a river of time
lost forever
and here I am standing
balanced on a rock
mid-stream
watching
as all my tomorrows
become yesterdays
and I
become
old

time

time is rushing
and I’m straggling behind
running to keep up
dropping trails of post-it notes
behind me
scribbled notes that were important once
before their purpose was forgotten
the hand-writing indecipherable
even to the eye that wrote it
please, time
have a tea-break
and let me catch my breath!

simply be

as time flies by
there is so little
of it left to sit
and think
and ask myself
about myself
and feel the feelings
that I feel

I seem to just
exist

do this and that
without a pause
of quiet thought
to contemplate

each day is filled
with things and stuff
my senses crammed
with sights and sounds

sometime demands
of work and home
keep me doing
doing doing
sometimes I do not stop
myself
from constant doing
doing doing
as if to stop
would be to fail
somehow

yet here
I sit
a moment found
my silence-craving
satisfied

I sit
I stop
I breathe
and rest
drink tea
and simply
be

ping

my tired eyes
reach for you
counting the hours
’til the stretched elastic
pings me back to you
and time
is yours and mine
alone

distant words

distant words
land softly
on my heart
from another time
before
and a yearning
becomes
a burning need
for words
to come again
but this is just
extravagance
for I have all
in the now

perspective

who was I
a year ago?
what was I
thinking?
from this angle
looking back
I wonder
at myself
lost and confused
misled, exploited
foolish
and even now
at this distance
it pains me
to remember
so forgive me
if I cling
to you
my love
I am floored
by how far
I have come
from there
to here
and oh so grateful
for your love

two-day

two-day
is for remembering
for counting
the ways of change
in a decade
of difference
since thirty
came and went
with small ones
tugging at my hands
time hurts
time heals
but time always moves on
and so do I

and on the third day …

time is falling
from the sky
and I’m twisting, arching
flinging myself
at odd angles
trying to avoid the downpour
but the years
will soak me through
one is born
one dies
one fights the inevitable
yet in the end
comes acceptance
lying down in the
feathers of mist
drenched in age
and as dawn comes
I will stand up again
with a creak and a groan
proudly wearing the
cloak of antiquity
and embracing
the passing
of youth

slow fade

seconds slip
sluggishly
dripping
treacle
from the hands
of the clock
pooling
round me
as I fade

the nearing of years

I fear
the years
in the lines
on my skin
as forty nears
the evidence clears
I am old
and what
is to show
from those years
just marks on skin
or marks on lives
or am I merely
marking time
’til closing of
the daily
grind