Travel Story: Bruny Island, Tasmania—a small place that stays with you ©Dawn Minott

On May 9, 2026June 24, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Prose, Travelogue11 Comments

Beforeword: This travel story reveals how I experienced Bruny Island, Tasmania. It the island doesn’t overwhelm. It doesn’t ask for attention. But if you give it, it stays with you.

I’m writing this post sitting on a tour bus that’s parked on a ferry that is transporting us back from Bruny Island to mainland Tasmania and I’m reflecting on the day that is now concluding.

About Bruny Island

Bruny Island is set just off the southeast coast of Tasmania. A 30-minute drive south of the city, Hobart, to the ferry terminal followed by a short ferry ride and you’re there.

Geographically, it’s part of Australia, yet once you cross that stretch of water, you feel the shift—the most obvious is that the roads narrow. But, as the distance grows, so is the sense that you’ve stepped into a different rhythm altogether.

Start in tranquility

The morning started on a quiet beach.

Before a single “attraction” had been ticked off, the tranquility of the beach set the tone.

Breakfast was oysters (hard pass for me), cheese, and bread. The cheeses were delicious including Bruny Island award-winning C2 hard cheese. The bread was decadent and that’s not an exaggeration. Freshly baked, still warm, stored in a used microwave turned breadbox set in the baker’s fence.

And guess who collected the bread?! Moi!!

You’re wondering how that happened, aren’t ya?! Well, the only seat on the bus where my legs fit comfortably was up front by the driver (tall girl problems) so I became his sidekick on the tour.

Someone on the tour surprised me with this video of me retrieving the bread from the microwave turned breadbox.

Adventure in wild life and light house

Next we made our way toward Adventure Bay. One adventure was scanning the landscape for a white wallaby. Albino. Rare. Not promised. Of course, this laidback island would not deliver on cue. You show up, you look, and if you’re lucky, you see. If not, you keep moving. And we saw—not one but four white wallabies.

Further south, the road eventually gives way to one of the island’s most striking landmarks—Cape Bruny Lighthouse. Built in 1838, it is one of the oldest surviving lighthouses in Australia. Though no longer functional it stands watch where the Tasman Sea meets the fierce winds rolling up from the Southern Ocean.

We climbed about 70 steps up a narrow cast-iron spiral staircase that winds upward through the tower. At the top balcony, the reward was immediate—rugged cliffs and the wild southern coastline stretching in every direction to the horizon.

Lunch was at the quaint and small Hotel Bruny. The tour guide described the pink eye potatoes, that are native to Tas, as scrumptious so you know I ordered those as part of my lunch. The tour guide didn’t exaggerate.

Sweetness in small doses

We were treated to sweetness in small doses. First at Bruny Island Honey then Bruny Island Chocolate Company. The honey ice cream left me craving more!

More goodies in unusual places

Somewhere between those stops—no sign announcing it, no marker alerting to pay attention, only a slight hint by the tour guide—then a set of three antiques refrigerators sitting by the roadside came into view at Sheepwash Road.

What was this?

Inside, loaves of sourdough bread and cookies baked by John Bullock, aka the Bruny Baker. Not a shopfront. No one standing there. Just a small box for payment and an unspoken agreement: take what you need, leave what you owe.

That stayed with me for a while. That system only works because people choose to make it work. It depends on trust, not enforcement. If it works on Bruny island couldn’t it work elsewhere!?

That’s when the island started to make more sense.

As we continued, I realized how easy it would be to miss entire parts of Bruny if you weren’t paying attention. Again, I’m not exaggerating.

When I say if “don’t blink or you’ll miss it” had a physical form, it would be Bruny main town. I kid you not, the tour guide announced: “We’re entering the main town” and by the time I changed the phone from photo to video we are through the town and he wasn’t driving fast.

The Island truly moves on a different frequency. The way distances are marked reinforces it.

Road signs don’t tell you how far something is—they tell you how long it will take to get there. Time, not distance, is the measure that matters.

And just like that you stop asking: “How far?” and start asking: “How long?”; and not in a “are-we-there-yet?” way but from an unaware shifting in your thinking. And somehow, that small change slows everything down.

*279 steps to the top of Truganini Lookout*

And then the day shifted again—a painful past

As the day was winding down the tour guide told the story of Truganini. By the time we got to Truganini Lookout climbing the 279 steps felt like a step-by-step walk back into history.

Bruny is also known as Lunawanna, a name from the Aboriginal people of the island. And standing there at the Lookout, it’s impossible not to think about Truganini—her life, what it represented, and what was lost.

From the top you have an unobstructed view of the island stretching out before you in both directions, narrow and exposed, held together by a thin strip of land. It’s beautiful, but it’s also grounding. Because the name carries a history of a powerful woman who fought for the protection and freedom of her people—the Palawa people of Lutruwita (Tasmania).

I didn’t know her specific story but it tugged on my heart strings because it didn’t feel distant to me.

Jamaica carries its own version of that story. The near disappearance of the Taino people. The powerful woman, Nanny, who also fought for the protection and freedom of her people. The fragments we continue to hold on to today (see my post about Accompong). And, the things we’re still trying to recover and name properly. Different geographies, same pattern.

By the end of the day, I realized Bruny hadn’t tried to overwhelm with highlights.

It had the feeling of: do one thing, do it properly, and don’t complicate it. So, you savor it.

It didn’t stack experiences on top of each other or rush me from one moment to the next. It gave me space—between places, between thoughts, between expectations.

And in that space, the details started to matter more:

A fridge on the side of the road.
Experiences that traveled across continents and found similar meaning.
A place so small you could miss it.
A lighthouse so imposing you can’t miss it.

Bruny doesn’t overwhelm. It doesn’t ask for attention. But if you give it, it stays with you.

2026 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club, Facebook & Bluesky.

💡 Only WordPress.com members can hit the “Like” button, but everyone’s welcome to share their thoughts in the comments. Thanks!

In creative solidarity, Dee

Small Things, Big Joy ©Dawn Minott | with audio

On May 7, 2026June 24, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry6 Comments

Beforeword: The muse for this poem was my interaction with a fussy baby girl in the jetway boarding a flight. That interaction reminded me that my greatest joy is found in small things.

I love the way the wind moves through leaves
The way sunrise dances across the seas
Birdsong breaking the dawn of day
Rain tapping rhythms on my window pane

I love the big ripples little pebbles make
Snowflakes falling softly on my face
The sky’s vibrant colors before day nods goodbye
Thunder rolling low across a darkened sky

I love the way small things bring joy
A baby’s shy giggle at my peek-a-boo ploy
My niece cajoling: “Aunty, let’s dance!”
The DJ finding my song, by chance

I love the softer side of nature
Low tide breathing slow beside her
Cuddly koala bears and star-filled nights
Cloud formations dripping in white

I love the small things
The quiet joy they bring
Things that have no price
Small things that pay back, twice

I love
The joy
Small things
Bring

Afterword: The muse for this poem was a beautiful baby girl peeking over her mother’s shoulder, looking squarely at me, tears still staining her cheeks. We were making our way through the jetway onto the plane when I started playing peek-a-boo, hiding my eyes my boarding pass, then peeping out silently mouthing, “peek-a-boo.”

At first, she stayed guarded. Then slowly she softened—a tiny smile, then a giggle, as she tucked her face into the crook of her mother’s neck. That was the moment her mother realized the sudden change in her baby’s mood was the doing of a stranger’s quiet shenanigans.

That small exchange brought me pure joy. It reminded me how often happiness arrives in the simplest moments—unexpected, unpriced, and easy to miss if we are not paying attention.

2026 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club, Facebook & Bluesky.

💡 Only WordPress.com members can hit the “Like” button, but everyone’s welcome to share their thoughts in the comments. Thanks!

In creative solidarity, Dee

Travel Story: Soft Life, Tigoni Edition ©Dawn Minott

On March 29, 2026June 26, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry18 Comments

I’m intentionally making my way through Kenya. Trying to experience as much of this vast land as I can.

Today—Tigoni.

Why Tigoni?! A friend took me for a drive and to spend time at an organic farmers market.

Tigoni is northwest of Nairobi, in the highlands of Kiambu County. You pass Ruaka—a very busy built‑up spot with lots of shops, stalls and traffic—before the road gets more rural and heads up toward Tigoni.

In just about twenty or so minutes outside of Nairobi you start to feel the shift: quieter, greener, and noticeably fresher and lighter than the city. My lungs got a proper fill.

We are now surrounded by tea farms and open countryside.

Once we got out of the car, I moved slowly through it all. Soaking it all in:

Fresh juices that taste exactly like the fruit they’re made from, no additives.
A farm-to-table meal that didn’t need any dressing up.
I picked up a bouquet because it contained my favorite flower—the calla lily—and because it looked like it belonged in a painting.

At some point, the cutest baby girl wandered over, carrot in one hand, reaching for my bouquet with the other. She stopped munching on her carrot, and leaned in to smell the flowers in my hands, completely locked in. Be still my heart. That was an unguarded moment, one that will stay with me.

There was live music.

The singer greeted us as we walked by the tent and explained that she’ll restart singing soon.

After complementing her beautiful kaftan I asked what genres she sings—among them she listed … you guessed it …reggae! Now, hear the clincher, her surname is Reggae. You can’t make this stuff up!!! Some would say the universe was aligning. I say, that was a God-moment.

As we milled about, iconic Bob Marley songs wove themselves through the tea leaves and drew me to the white tent, where Ms. Reggae was doing the reggae!

I spread the kanga (also called leso)—Kenya’s colorful cotton fabric—and joined others sprawled out on the grass, just being.

No rush. “…Don’t worry about a thing…” melodically sung while Ms. Reggae lovingly cuddles her daughter and I couldn’t help but join in, making it a sing-along:

My ultimate find of the day was a handmade mango butter body moisturizer. I asked the shop owner skeptically: “Mango has butter?!” To which she gladly informed it’s in the seed and went on to describe how she makes it—the end product whipped, soft, almost like cream. It smells divine, and it lingers.

Now, not only do I get to eat one of my favourite fruits, I get to wear it too. My skin’s still holding onto it, smooth and hydrated. (I know what will be in Christmas stockings this year! 😆)

As if the vast spread of greenery all around wasn’t enough, somewhere behind it all, a waterfall—you don’t quite see it, but you hear it, steady and soft, like a backdrop Mother Nature threw in just because she could!

Nothing dramatic about the day. But it felt full. The kind of full that comes from slowing down enough to actually notice where you are.

Tigoni didn’t disappoint.

2026 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club, Facebook & Bluesky.

💡 Only WordPress.com members can hit the “Like” button, but everyone’s welcome to share their thoughts in the comments. Thanks!

In creative solidarity, Dee

Travel Story: Amboseli, Kenya—The Savanna Calls ©Dawn Minott

On March 22, 2026June 13, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry22 Comments

Have you ever heard a cow mooed in the wee hours of the morn,
that low rumble rolling through dawn’s stillness,
before the sun disappears the night sky?

Have you ever walked past Maasai herdsmen,
red shukas dotting landscape’s green,
their cattle answering only to rungu’s sway?

Have you ever locked eyes with a baboon,
a baby wedged in tight while she
leaps and runs and feeds?

Have you ever seen a lioness frolic with her cubs,
letting them tumble over her body,
teaching them survival dressed up as play?

Have you ever stood still while elephants trample grass,
felt the ground rumble in low tremors,
watched a matriarch trudging along, alone, as if waiting for life’s end?

Have you ever noticed cattle egrets clinging to elephants’ backs,
white against grey,
small beside massive,
yet moving in symbiotic agreement?

Have you ever heard the crowned crane sing in unison,
nature’s orchestra on the open plains
on long legs lifting seamlessly through marsh?

Have you ever seen impala startled by hyena, leap—
body suspended mid-air,
as if gravity paused in step with fear?

Have you ever realized, somewhere between dawn’s moo
and dusk’s shadows,
that a safari is not about sighting—
but about scale?

Have you ever felt yourself shrink in the vastness of the wide sky,
small beneath the Kilimanjaro,
grateful the wild needs no permission to perform?

I have stood in that open vastness,
reconnected to the magnificence of nature
something in me answered back
to the call of the savanna

2026 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club, Facebook & Bluesky.

💡 Only WordPress.com members can hit the “Like” button, but everyone’s welcome to share their thoughts in the comments. Thanks!

In creative solidarity, Dee

Travel Story: Kenya—Where the Wild Ushers Calm Within ©Dawn Minott

On March 20, 2026June 13, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry19 Comments

I’ve always been a lover of nature—now it practically sits at my doorstep. What once took planning, traffic, and intention now meets me effortlessly. There’s a kind of healing I’m experiencing in this shift. The quiet here settles in a different way. In other places quiet was something I’d go looking for—here, in Kenya, the quiet finds you.

Contrasting this to the last place I lived—New York City—where nature felt negotiated. Central Park and Bryant Park were two of my nature chill spots. But one cannot escape the reality that they are framed by steel and concrete, that silence is interjected by sirens, and the sky is viewed through the framing of high rise buildings. The city made every effort to ensure nature had its place, but it was contained. You visited it. You scheduled it. You left it behind.

Here in Kenya you’re surrounded by nature. I live in the city, Nairobi, yet nature is not on the sidelines I only need look beyond my patio to cows grazing in a meadow.

Nature stretches wide across the land, unbothered, uncontained. From the vastness of the savannah to the bespoke authority of the mountains, nature just IS. And somewhere in this transition from the city that never sleeps to one that lulls your senses into calm, something in me loosens, unclenches, exhales.

*Photos by me: Amboseli & Nairobi Parks, Giraffe Center*

A weekend drive can take you into the heart of Maasai Mara, the horizon seems to stretch on endlessly. Or to Amboseli National Park, where gentle giant elephants roam and playful lion cubs romp beneath the shadow of Kilimanjaro. And you feel present in nature.

*Snow-capped Mount Kilimanjaro, photo taken by me while on a safari drive through Amboseli National Park*

But Kenya isn’t only nature, it’s what I’d also describe as being “layered”.

Nairobi has its own city qualms but moves to a different kind of energy. The art scene is alive—galleries, street art, design studios—and fashion tells stories in bold color, texture, and form.

There’s a confidence in the creativity I’m seeing here meaning it’s not an imitation, it knows intuitively what it is.

The pace of life also demands something different. Or maybe it offers it.

Work is still work—I still work hard and work long hours but it doesn’t consume in the same way. There’s an unspoken insistence on balance. You feel it in how people gather, how they pause, how they step away. It forces me to let go the grind mentality and to recalibrate what urgency really means and what’s to be prioritized.

And then there’s the contrast that keeps surprising me—the topography itself. Vast savannahs that stretch into forever, then a shift, and suddenly you’re met with coastline—warm waters and soft sand along the Indian Ocean. I’m slowly coming to learn that this country doesn’t settle into one identity, it’s too vast and diverse for that.

What I didn’t expect, though, was the familiarity.

I find when I say I’m from Jamaica, Kenyans light up. Almost immediately they go to reggae. The rhythm of reggae floats easily here. It’s not unusual to hear it in the gym as I work out or its beats blaring out of matatus (minibuses) zipping by on the roadways.

*Jamaica-culture inspired minibuses (matatus or nganya) on the streets in Nairobi (complete with Jamaican flag waving in the wind)*

And Jamaica is well known and embraced. It’s the music, the culture, the energy—it lives here in a way that feels genuine. And for me, that lands deeper than I anticipated. There’s something about hearing those sounds, seeing that appreciation, that makes me feel at home in a place that is still new.

Wanted.

Recognized.

Connected.

That’s a feeling that can’t be beat.

Moving to Kenya was first a change in geography and since I’ve been here it continues to be a shift in how I experience space, time, and even myself.

Even now as I write this piece, I can hear birds outside my window serenading the break of dawn, ushering in the new day with nature’s tweets. It feels like the wild outside has found its way inward—quietly restoring, gently rebalancing.

And I’m learning to meet it there.

Karibu Kenya!

2026 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club, Facebook & Bluesky.

💡 Only WordPress.com members can hit the “Like” button, but everyone’s welcome to share their thoughts in the comments. Thanks!

In creative solidarity, Dee

Finally Home and Why It Matters—Jamaica 3 Months After Hurricane Melissa ©Dawn Minott

On January 24, 2026May 1, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry25 Comments

In my article Holding Change & Loss I promised to return with more writing and on-the-ground updates from being in Jamaica.

You’ll recall, on October 28, 2025, Hurricane Melissa — a catastrophic Category 5 hurricane with sustained winds around 185 mph (295 km/h) — made historic landfall near Jamaica’s southwest coast. At the time, every major news outlet carried images and stories of devastation; now the world has moved on, but the work of recovery is just beginning and sustained attention, accountability, and action are essential.

With that in mind, I made it to Jamaica. I wanted to be here sooner, but the reality is this: the country will be in recovery for a long time. So arriving now still feels right — not too late.

If you’ve read my other posts about Jamaica, you know how heightened the anticipation of returning home always is for me. I’m always on the lookout for that first stretch of green and coastline which always settles something in me. This time I started filming earlier than usual — not just the landing, but the first sight of land itself.

When the wheels touched down, the usual clapping broke out — the applause of gratitude. Then the flight attendant invited a louder one. We obliged. It felt earned. My lips spoke the sentiments of my heart: “Me reach home!”

But this trip wasn’t just about returning home. It was about the work on the ground, and seeing what’s real beyond the headlines.

In Kingston it’s possible to feel like all is well. That illusion didn’t last long. On the drives west the story changed. There were more than 170 communities severely impacted in the 6 parishes that felt the brunt of the storm. I went to three of them: St. Elizabeth, Trelawny and Hanover.

From a distance, you’d miss the damage.

But, the reminders came fast. Downed light poles. Roofless houses, churches, schools, hospitals, infirmaries. Roads riddled with potholes that are now more like craters. The storm’s imprint cuts clearly through the green — twisted sheets of zincs wrapped around tress so tightly as if that was their natural home and trees precariously leaned to one side, an indication of the effects of sustained winds — all a physical reminder of what western Jamaica endured.

As hills and mountains passed by, what was most evident is that nature was already healing itself.

People tell me that the fresh greenery masks the havoc that stripped trees of bark and leaves and left slopes bare and brown.

What stood out just as much was the response.

People are already helping themselves and each other. Schools shifted to tents. Makeshift repairs are everywhere — zincs repurposed, tarpaulin stretched taut across roofs so that the landscape is dotted with blue. I said it out loud, and the CEO of the foundation I’m volunteering with agreed: she said soon after the hurricane, people were snatching zincs from wherever the wind had blown them to use to protect their homes.

In talking with people, amid the horror of having lived through Hurricane Melissa, what consistently emerged were stories of neighbors rallying around one another. In one case, someone gave a building to a shopkeeper who lost her entire business so she could start again. No waiting. No dramatics. Just movement. That’s the JamaiCAN spirit in action.

Hanover took us further into the hinterland. The drive was painstakingly slow. The hurricane had worsened the roads so severely and one shorter route was still submerged, appearing more like a dam from our view above. Our driver navigated potholes like a minefield as we followed a minivan bobbing and weaving its way through, carrying the more than 200 care packages we were to distribute to families as well as supplies for several small enterprises.

The needs are wide — from safe roofing materials and school supplies to infrastructure support, equipment for small businesses, and psychosocial care.

I chose to focus on schools and female-headed small enterprises, supporting both education and livelihoods while investing in people’s capacity and dignity. Based on advocacy efforts I was able to assist schools with books and, in one case, a tent mobilized through UNICEF that now serves as a gathering space after the school’s roof was completely ripped off. With electricity still not restored, the solar-powered lanterns and power banks were well received.

I was grateful to also be able to speak with people, offering a listening ear and psychological support. One that stood out was a single mother of three children in school who lost her home and everything in it. The only structure still standing is her small shop. Her shop served as a community meeting point—aptly called the “Hilltop Chill Spot”.

In fact, while World Central Kitchen was operating in the area, her shop served as the site where more than 250 meals were prepared and distributed each day. Now that WCK has moved on, the shop has the potential to continue as a community support hub with the right backing. Being part of the shift that allowed her — and another female shop owner — to look forward rather than backward was a privilege. Watching a flicker of hope brighten as practical support came into view is why getting here mattered. Seeing it firsthand matters.

But this isn’t just about Jamaica.

Hurricane Melissa joins a litany of climate-intensified storms that hit Small Island Developing States like ours with disproportionate force. These nations contribute the least to global emissions, yet face more frequent and severe hurricanes, rising seas, and shifting weather patterns that threaten agriculture, infrastructure, culture, and heritage—from livelihoods to historic sites and community roots. SIDS like Jamaica are on the front lines of this global challenge.

Cultural loss, heritage destruction, and community displacement are climate impacts that demand global responsibility. This isn’t a local issue — it’s an issue of climate justice.

Recovery will be long-term, and preparedness alone isn’t enough.

Infrastructural change is needed to build back not just what was lost, but what’s stronger, more resilient, and more equitable. This means supporting micro- and small enterprises — including those owned by women — to rebuild better and more sustainably. It also includes reskilling people in modern farming technologies, AI-driven resilience tools, construction practices that anticipate future climate realities, and ensuring meaningful community engagement at all stages.

Moving around the country, seeing firsthand and speaking with fellow Jamaicans, the national pledge kept coming back to mind and it stopped being just words. The pledge begins with the words “Before God and all mankind,” followed by lines expressing dedication of heart, mind, and body to the service of fellow citizens. Specifically:

I pledge the strength and vigor of my body in the service of my fellow citizens…

Raised on this pledge, Jamaicans embody it. I saw it in action — a people committed to helping one another, rebuilding together.

This article is not to imply that Jamaica isn’t carrying damage, but to show that it also carries resolve.

Jamaicans are resilient, yes, but resilience should not be mistaken for self-sufficiency. They are already rebuilding, but doing so with the same materials and methods risks repeating destruction. Resilience should be met with resources, systems, and sustained commitment — supporting communities, schools, churches and micro- and small enterprises, especially those led by women, to rebuild stronger and more sustainably. Small shops are often run by women and are the heartbeat of their communities: they provide income, social support, and gathering spaces, and their recovery is central to restoring both livelihoods and local life.

I’m here. I listened. I watched. I learned.

Being here allowed me to hold space for what was lost, to learn from what’s being rebuilt, and to bear witness to a country that refuses to yield — a people whose strength is matched only by their resolve to rise again.

PS You’ll appreciate these posts:

we are JamaiCAN, we CAN rise again (with video and recital in patois)

Jamaica Strong

A Prayer for Jamaica

JamaiCAN: The Will That Refuses to Quit

SUPPORT JAMAICA REBUILD

If you’re able to support Jamaica’s recovery, the government has set up a site to coordinate all support coming to our beautiful island. We are grateful for all the countries, organizations, individuals, charities etc. that have come to our aid. We’re eternally grateful.

Click to visit the site: Government of Jamaica Hurricane Melissa Relief

2026 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club, Facebook & Bluesky.

💡 Only WordPress.com members can hit the “Like” button, but everyone’s welcome to share their thoughts in the comments. Thanks!

In creative solidarity, Dee

Dear Mother Earth ©Dawn Minott | a Haibun for Earth Day

On April 22, 2025April 22, 2025 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry7 Comments

Dear Mother Earth, where do you
hurt? Your seas, your
hills, your forests — are they
tender to the touch?
With 8 billion humans treading upon your surface do
you tremble at your core? Is it a
pain within, is it a pain without? Or is it both?

Mother Earth, we breathe of your air
freely, yet live recklessly in your bounty
We take and keep on taking while replacing you with so very little
Still, from verdant valleys to mountains
high your landscapes paint a breathtaking sky
Through changing seasons, your cycles
dance a consistent renewal waltz

From scars run deep
within your glaciers melting, your tears
turning to streams that swell
Oceans covering places where islands once were
Now they are no more

Mother Earth, is this pain too deep
flickering flames now metastasizing fires’
rage, fiery tongues lashing
Devouring all that could not withstand
Turning forests to ash
smoke cascading dimming the
Skies, obscuring sun’s light
from Canada to the USA across
borders, a wake of destruction unfurling
Embers dancing, fueled by winds’ cruel breath
Smoke billowing forth, a somber cloak in the air

Through hazy skies, we get a glimpse of your wounded land
A scar etched upon your surface, an anguish etched across your sky

Mother Earth,
My heart burns with you, consuming with your fire
My tears flow with you, cascading with your storms
My body pains with you, thumping with your quakes
How many more wake-up calls
To cherish your wonders, protect them for all

In understanding
Honor Mother Earth’s splendor
Time is running out

2024 All Rights Reserved
Republished 2025

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Drama of Jamaican Sunset—Travel Story 1 birthMONTH 2025 ©Dawn Minott

On April 7, 2025June 13, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry20 Comments

The drama of a Jamaican sunset is unmatched.

It doesn’t just set—it performs.

The sky becomes a stage,

bathed in gold, set ablaze with orange,

then kissed by fire-red and indigo.

The sun takes its time,

lingering like a lover not ready to leave.

It dips behind the horizon with flair,

casting long shadows and lighting hearts.

Waves shimmer.

Palms sway.

And for a moment, it’s as if the whole island stands still as the sun slips behind the horizon.

If you’ve ever seen a Jamaican sunset,

you know—it’s not just a view,

it’s an experience.

Images & video captured by me!

2025 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Planetary Parade ©Dawn Minott |a #Shadorma

On March 7, 2025March 7, 2025 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry7 Comments

Beforeword: Whenever multiple planets become visible to the naked eye, it is often referred to as a planetary alignment. On the other hand, a planetary parade describes the breathtaking phenomenon where planets appear to form a “straight line,” as if marching in unison across the night sky. This cosmic event is usually of 4, 5 or 6 planets but 7 is quite rare. On 28 February 2025, 7 planets perfectly aligned, displaying the grandeur and harmony of the universe, a fleeting spectacle that connects us to the vastness beyond our world.

This shadorma captures the essence of this rare cosmic dance across the February 28th night sky.

Planetary Parade

Mercury

Plus Mars, Jupiter,

Uranus

Neptune joined

Rare—seven planets aligned

Venus, Saturn too

#Shadorma is a six-line (sextain) poetic form with a syllabic pattern of 3-5-3-3-7-5.

2025 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Travel Story: Severe Weather & Aviation Converge —Terror in the Sky ©Dawn Minott

On February 19, 2025June 13, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry26 Comments

“There’s no way your flight will take off in this weather. You’ll be back soon.”

With those parting words from my other-mom on February 16th, I headed to Pearson International Airport, bracing myself against one of Toronto’s worst snowstorms in recent history.

Toronto digs out from biggest winter storm in more than three years
*Credit: The Weather Network*

As the Uber driver cautiously navigated through snow-laden side streets and treacherous highways, I gripped my seatbelt tightly, my foot pressing an imaginary brake, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

All day, I had been refreshing my flight status, fully expecting a cancellation.

At the airport, a complete whiteout swallowed the tarmac; not a single plane was visible. Yet, somehow, our flight remained scheduled. Trusting that the weather forecasting service deemed it safe, I boarded.

After an extended de-icing process, I willed myself to sleep, hoping to escape the turbulence I was certain awaited us.

But no intensity of sleep could have prevented me from this experience.

I woke up as we began our descent into LaGuardia—a route I had flown countless times. But this time it felt different. The plane trembled violently, the wing I had my eyes fixated on was swaying against the wind. My body tensed, pressing into the seat for stability. I could see the landmark buildings and high rises. Then, suddenly, we lurched into a steep climb—our landing aborted. The city lights below faded rapidly as we climbed back into the dense darkness.

The intercom chimed, and the pilot’s voice cut through the uneasy silence:

“Due to heavy winds near the surface, we were unable to land. We will circle and attempt another approach.”

Attempt two: The turbulence was worse. I watched the wing shake as the cityscape came into view, again. And again—another sudden ascent.

Attempt three: Even more violent. Passengers were now visibly ill; flight attendants hurriedly distributed motion sickness bags when we leveled off.

Attempt four: The same gut-wrenching pattern. The aircraft shook violently. My eyes were fixed on the wing. It was flapping as if it might snap.

The fourth attempt felt closest. We approached over water, the familiar low urban approach into LaGuardia. I prayed intensely as water gave way to land. I thought, this is it—we’re landing. But then—another abrupt climb.

A collective gasp of terror and despair filled the cabin. Followed by a deafening silence.

No passengers spoke.

Even the pilots remained silent, undoubtedly giving this relentless battle against the wind their undivided attention.

In the absence of information, I turned to the flight map. It now displayed an estimated arrival time back to Toronto. My heart sank. If conditions here were this treacherous, what awaited us at Pearson?

The intercom chimed again, the pilot’s voice calm but firm:

“We will not attempt a fifth landing due to fuel constraints. We are heading back.”

A wave of confusion spread through the cabin. Passengers exchanged panicked glances. Then, the collective question, I also joined in:

“Heading back, where?”

The intercom beeped once more.

“Back to Toronto.”

The flight map was indeed correct. We are heading back to Toronto!

Minutes passed. Then another chime.

“We are diverting to Hamilton—we do not have enough fuel to reach Toronto.”

Every plane crash story and movie I had ever watched flashed through my mind. This was the moment for faith and self-talk. I whispered reassurances to myself, willing my body to remain calm as I prayed.

We landed in Hamilton with a jarring thud. Passengers, desperate for solid ground, rose from their seats before we even stopped moving. The pilot’s voice returned:

“We will refuel and return to Toronto. Please remain seated.”

Tensions rose. The flight attendants did their best to soothe frayed nerves. The line for the bathrooms stretched the length of the small plane.

*My legs up against the seat in this small plane. I can endure this for 1.5 hours, 14 hours was hellish*

Our only sustenance? Pretzels and water.

Four hours later, after refueling and de-icing, we were airborne again. By this point, exhaustion had dulled my fear.

At almost 4 a.m., nearly 12 hours after our journey began, we arrived back at Pearson—right where we started. The baggage claim area was packed with hundreds of stranded passengers. My suitcase, like so many others, was nowhere to be found.

*Descending the escalator from immigration into the baggage claim area at 3:53 AM* *looking in one direction*

By the time the ordeal ended—including the scramble to secure another flight—it was nearly 4 p.m. I had been in travel mode for 24 hours for a trip that should have taken 1.5.

*Trying to find a ticket online for the day after* 😵‍💫🫣🤯🙄😲

*The phone number we were given rang with no answer so we stood in a long line to rebook tickets at the airport*

No sooner had I settled at home than the news broke:

A Delta Air Lines regional jet had crash-landed at Pearson. The plane flipped upon landing due to strong crosswinds and heavy snow. Miraculously, all passengers survived, though some were injured.

I stared at the TV screen, my body still buzzing from adrenaline.

My straddling that thin line between routine travel and catastrophe had never been closer.

And in that moment I’m reminded of how the convergence of severe weather and aviation underscores that delicate balance between safety and the unpredictability of nature.

Reflecting on my own harrowing experience, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

I still have a flight ahead of me to get back to my second home. Praying for safe travel has never had such profound meaning.

2025 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Flower of the Day Challenge #92–Precious Peony

On November 26, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Photo Reflection9 Comments

Thanks to Cee for hosting the Flower of the Day prompt.

2024 ©Dawn Minott 
All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Flower of the Day Challenge #89–Vibrant Bouquet

On October 17, 2024November 3, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Photo Reflection7 Comments

I don’t know the name of this flower but I chose this bouquet above all the others because of this spiked beauty. Mama nature sure does replicate herself like only she can—this looks like the land version of the sea urchin, doesn’t it? So I’m naming her the urchin flower 😀

Thanks to Cee for hosting the Flower of the Day prompt.

2024 ©Dawn Minott 
All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Of Rain & Tears ©Dawn Minott

On August 12, 2024July 4, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry25 Comments

Rain—nature’s self-care, nature made
Drop by drop, earth’s hurt is stayed
Sometimes it falls from skies with grace
A tender touch, a soft embrace

At other times skies fierce cry
Winds will howl, and sea will sigh
As lightning splits the darkest night
So too does pain, with blinding might

Each drop of tear revives the heart
As sorrow fades and grief depart
It washes wounds, it mends the pain
In every tear, there lies a gain

For tears and rain are much the same
They cleanse the soul, they cool the flame
In stormy nights and darkest fears
We find our strength in rain and tears

So let them fall, both tears and rain
For in their flow, we break our chains
A gift from clouds, a gift from eyes
Nurtured in stormy skies and cries

Afterword: This poem is a reflection on the connection between tears and rain—both born of nature, both born to nurture.

2024 All Rights Reserved
Design and Image: Canva

Like what you see? There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords & Facebook. To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Hydrangeas Bloom

On July 21, 2024July 21, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry26 Comments

Last year these beauties didn’t flower

This year their blooms are starting to shower

Filling the garden and my heart with wonder

Variety of blooms we are blessed to discover

Hydrangeas Bloom in Waiting ©Dawn Minott

Peacock ©Dawn Minott |a Cinquain

On June 29, 2024June 29, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry2 Comments

Bright tail
Colors unfold
Dancing in sunlight’s beam
Feathers spread wide, a regal show
Peacock

Afterword: A cinquain is a five-line poem with a syllabic count of 2 / 4 / 6 / 8 / 2.

2024 All Rights Reserved
Photos by me!

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Greece Travel Story—Peacocks & Palace ©Dawn Minott

On June 29, 2024June 13, 2026 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry26 Comments

Exploring Greece brought me face-to-face with the mesmerizing beauty of peacocks, both vibrant and ethereal.

From a zoo in Cyprus to the ancient grounds of Knossos in Crete, these encounters left a lasting impression, blending natural wonder with historical splendor. And for the first time I saw these elegant creatures outside the confines of the “box” of a TV screen.

My first encounter was at the zoo in Cyprus (well, I guess that’s a different kind of “box”).

I waited what seemed like forever for the peacock to display its stunning, iridescent plumage.

When it finally did, the unfolding of its long, colorful tail feathers fanned out into an array of eye-catching patterns—a vibrant mix of blues, greens, and golds. The distinctive “eyes” on the feathers were mesmerizing, and I understood then why the peahen couldn’t resist its allure.

But not all peacocks are colorful. I saw a peacock with pure white feathers, like a bleached version of the typical vibrant aesthetic. Its ethereal beauty left me spellbound.

According to Treehugger, this is not albinism but rather a color mutation of the Indian blue peafowl caused by a genetic mutation called leucism.

As if a Greek god wanted to gift me with a peacock sighting outside the “box,” I encountered an elegant peacock roaming freely on the grounds of the monumental Palace of Minos in Knossos (Heraklion, Crete). It appeared just as I entered the palace, adding to the magic of the moment.

This peacock seemed to flirt with me, shaking his tail feathers a couple of times, but never fanning them out completely.

I could hear peafowl distinctive loud calls off in the distance, a signal he was not alone. The call seemed to beckon him. He walked away, leaving me wondering if there was soon to be an elaborate courtship display that I’d miss seeing.

These captivating moments with one of nature’s most elegant creatures, their stunning displays and the unexpected surprises along the way added to making my trip to Greece magical.

2024 All Rights Reserved
Photos by me!

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Flower of the Day Challenge #84–From Disappointment to Delight: My Hydrangea Journey

On June 29, 2024June 29, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry20 Comments

Last year, my hydrangeas didn’t bloom. That was disheartening for a new gardener—wondering what I did or didn’t do. I shared this with you and received suggestions on what to do differently. I followed your advice and made the necessary changes.

As spring began unfolding this year, I watched the hydrangeas like a hawk. When the first flower heads appeared, relief washed over me—affirmation that my attention to their care at the start of the season was worthwhile.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, here are the first set of hydrangeas that skipped blooming last season. Enjoy!

Thanks to Cee for hosting the Flower of the Day prompt.

2024 ©Dawn Minott 
All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Rio Nuevo/New River ©Dawn Minott |an ekphrastic poem

On June 26, 2024July 5, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry47 Comments

Beforeword: Rio Nuevo lends its name to the small village on Jamaica’s north coastline where the river enters the sea. This idyllic place was the historical ground for the largest battle which shifted Jamaica from Spanish to English control in 1658 during the horrid days of colonial rule. This poem is to the beauty of Rio Nuevo’s continuous flow into the sea like Jamaica’s continuous quest to fully shed colonial legacy.

Rio Nuevo where river and sea entwine in liquid whispers
a lullaby sung
cascade down
trickles of longing
from ancient hills in the quiet
a liquid journey
the river dreams
endless yearning for the sea
the current’s ebb and flow
rhythmic dreams set sail
finding solace in sea’s embrace

Rio Nuevo, where destinies lie
in 1658, battles fought and won
the English, the Spanish did defy
Jamaica captured like pawn in colonial quest
a hamlet of heritage, memories set sail
today a village, quiet and quaint

Rio Nuevo, where the river dreams
of the vast, open sea
a liquid reverie
each ripple tells a tale
a journey traced in water’s embrace
whispers to the waves
of the vast, open sea
from source to mouth, a liquid symphony played
in nature’s stream
dreams take flight
the river yearns for the sea’s embrace
river and sea, a gentle collide

Afterword: . Linking history to water’s ebb and flow and the reminder of river’s yearning to give herself to the sea as a kind of letting go—that we humans must also do. A letting go of painful past, not so as to forget but so that it lives on in us free of hate or negativity like the freedom in the vast open sea.

Contributing to this week’s W3 prompt hosted by David—an ekphrastic poem inspired by any image of a body of water.

2024 All Rights Reserved 
Photos: Sheldon Levene

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Flower of the Day Challenge #83 Radiant Roses

On June 22, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry18 Comments

Thanks to Cee for hosting the Flower of the Day prompt.

2024 ©Dawn Minott 
All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Flower of the Day Challenge #79: Ravishing Roses

On May 31, 2024May 31, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry2 Comments

I can’t keep this nature-inspired joy to myself, so here are some of the stunning roses that are dazzling my little garden this year. Enjoy!

Thanks to Cee for hosting the Flower of the Day prompt.

2024 ©Dawn Minott All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Nature Poem: Eclipse Wonder ©Dawn Minott |with audio

On April 16, 2024April 23, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry18 Comments

Beforeword: On 8 April 2024 the Moon’s shadow swept across North America, treating millions to a breathtaking view of a total solar eclipse. I was on the other side of the world at the time and the sun gave a most beautiful setting as if she knew her light would soon be upstaged by the moon (see video below).

Sunset (Kuşadası), 8 April 2024

As I experienced the eclipse vicariously through those watching it live—one thing was common in their expressions—they all felt it all around. The temperature dropped, animals modified their behaviors, the light slowly dimmed then suddenly darkness engulfed from every angle. At the moment of totality people shared that their hearts raced or their eyes welled up with tears.

This poem is the expressions of all I felt from watching the sun set over the Aegean Sea to knowing that it was about to be eclipsed over the other side of the world washed by the Atlantic Ocean.

Here’s to “Eclipse Wonder”

⏫⏫⏫

Eclipse
Primordial
Visceral
Incomprehensible—
Yet utterly
Amazingly incredible

Once in a lifetime
a celestial spectacle
of epic proportions
stilled crowds of millions
in simultaneous silence
in a collective pause
in a singular breath of wonder

Mother Nature staged her show,
her grand, cosmic ballet
where light bowed to shadow
and history intertwined with the stars
for eclipses before—a war they halted, Einstein’s theory of relativity they affirmed

Allure undeniable
the cosmos played out their ancient rites
the sun courted the moon
under her spell peoples gathered
everyone
everywhere
hearts opened
heads tilted skyward
eyes widened

As totality claimed the day
bringing into alignment the Sun, the Moon, the Earth
the heaviness that settles o’er our world lightened
for families, friends, classes, colleagues, and even strangers
all simultaneously looked to the heavens
as one
in that moment shared and felt profoundly
the fleeting touch
of the infinite—
the Divine

*Moon’s shadow on the earth on 8 April 2024*

*All Photos Credit: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/m4WxSa8YDuCP7CtK/?mibextid=WC7FNe*

2024 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Flower of the Day Challenge #74: Splendiferous Sunflower

On February 26, 2024June 28, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry17 Comments

The sunflower may deceive you—it’s not a typical flower. Its petals, seemingly floral, are, in fact, disguised leaves, adopting a yellow hue to allure pollinators. Upon closer inspection, what you perceived as the flower is an intricate outline concealing numerous beautiful and delicate flowers, harmoniously aligned in nature’s geometry. Each small flower carries within it a multitude of sunflower fields in golden dust—a phenomenon termed infloration in biology. 🌻

2024 ©Dawn Minott 
All Rights Reserved
Photo Credit: Facebook

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Old Man Winter ©Dawn Minott | Haiku

On January 20, 2024January 21, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry19 Comments

Winter has finally arrived in my neck of the woods. A double haiku to commemorate wintry magic.

2024 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords, the Writers Club & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Flower of the Day Challenge #72: Cat Face Flower

On January 8, 2024January 8, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Photo Reflection31 Comments

*Have you seen anything more adorable?! Mother Nature totally rocks!!*

Thanks to Cee for hosting the Flower of the Day prompt.

2023 ©Dawn Minott All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. I love hearing from you, so remember to “like” & comment. For more content start HERE👈
In creative solidarity, Dee

Ocean ©Dawn Minott | a Dectina Refrain

On December 20, 2023December 20, 2023 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry18 Comments

*Oceanic serenades, a soothing embrace of cleansing waves and radiant sunshine.*

2023 All Rights Reserved

Like what you see? To never miss a post click HERE👈 to subscribe & follow the blog. There’s more HERE👈 and on Spillwords & Facebook.
In creative solidarity, Dee

Walking In the Rain ©Dawn Minott| with audio

On December 8, 2023January 17, 2024 By Dawn MinottIn Poetry43 Comments