All photos & poems by Maria Isabel Pita unless otherwise indicated
If you really like them and want to use them, just let me know where and how.
These little green gems were all over our windows when we lived on 5 wooded acres in Louisiana. They make their homes in the trees but windowpanes are their favorite dining establishments–at night moths, attracted by the light, serve themselves up. Watching these nightly feasts inspired me to write this Ode to a Moth:
Moths look like the ghosts of warrior kings—
ashes of armor and cloaks of evanescent victories—
burning ideals rewarded by the freedom of flight
determined backs to an endless night,
but even though I tap the glass in warning
they leave no imprint in the darkroom of a frog’s belly.
It is written on a moth’s wings in filigree
one story of all the lives composing me
as I die for the night cocooned in violet sheets
confident I will rise again, mysteriously.
Published in The Lyric Summer of 2009
Sacred Snake
My husband shot this photo of a snake which suddenly appeared on the gate directly in front of where we were sitting on our screened in porch in Ethel, Louisiana. I had been telling him about a scene I’d written in my novel about Hathspesut, the female Pharaoh, involving a sacred snake. Perhaps it was pleased. Stinger also commented that it formed an M, as though honoring my first initial. Life is full of such magical synchronicities, that is, if you’re open to seeing and appreciating them. If you’re thinking “it’s just a meaningless coincidence” this Blog is not for you!
Samurai Dragonfly
I never tire of the faces revealed to my naked eye by my camera’s macro lens. When it comes to the intricasy of beauty–and the fascinating personalities it assumes–size definitely does not matter.
My great uncle did this painting in Cuba. Decades later, it hangs in my home in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia. One afternoon, a moth perched on it for several minutes and became a magically large part of the little town. I was born in Havana, Cuba but left the country when I was ten months old. I’ve never been back. I wouldn’t be able to breathe in the atmosphere of tyranny that still shrouds the beautiful and long-suffering island of my birth. Maybe one day, hopefully soon, Cubans will truly be free again in their homeland.
This Luna Moth, like some ancient Egyptian ships and sarcophaguses, has markings akin to eyes “painted” on both sides.
The Secret Life of Refrigerator Magnets
“Optical illusion is visual truth.” Goethe 
Swiss Chard Forest
Beautiful Bugs
An Adorable Slug!
Stinger’s Large Image Collection–Hundreds of plants identified
Years in Images
Once upon a time, we owned five mostly wooded acres in Ethel, Louisiana. My dad was still alive then and I’ll never forget the way he laughed when I told him we had moved to Green Acres. “Goodbye, city life!” I’d never lived in the country before, never planted a vegetable garden, never had laying hens, never been so happy… but we didn’t like the heat (we both grew up in the North East, and I for one missed the snow and the cold) so although our old place in Lousiana is now a part of my soul, I’m still very glad circumstances transplanted us to our two magical acres in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia.
Ethel, Louisiana
In my imagination lifetimes are
bottled as distilled emotions
labeled with conversations
stored in cool universes
corked with tombstones
dusty with ashes
timelessly savored… 
Drinking Sunlight After Hurricane Gustav
Shades of "True Blood" but much more beautiful
A Bloody Beautiful Sunset
Southern Comfort
Farewell...
Paris, Virginia
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