Sometimes we create barriers.
Lack of a kind word, holding back, refusal?
A lingering resentment–– unfortunate turn of phrase?
Love and friendship suffer, when obscured by haze…

Yet a raised hand can halt the northern wind.
Or a child’s presence?  A smile?  Tiny bridges…
But mostly open arms, that elusive grace
that comes from undemanding, maternal embrace.

Poetry by Stan I.S. Law


Mural Sculpture 17″ x 22″ in gesso-duro by Bozena Happach


Violin Concerto

And with this final chord she froze in utter stillness;
cast from hot, flowing bronze, chiseled in solid ice.
I held my breath––my heart and soul she’s won…
For though her bow stopped moving…
…her violin played on.

A hesitant vibrato, stronger, tempting, commanding,
then tiny, sweet tremolo––arpeggios scaling octaves…
While she stood rapt, music still told its story,
From violin flowed lakes, forests…
…fields in all their glory…

It was Sebelius’ Violin Concerto.  Notes––blades of
grass, fields of golden wheat––heads swaying in
unison…  Prodigious throw of Nature’s secret dice,
Sweet mysteries, enchantment…
…gates of paradise…

Poetry by Stan I.S. Law


Sculpture in bronze by Bozena happach