Go to the beach. Go to the part where nobody lingers. The heron is watching. Seagulls survey. There’s the smell of saltwater. Seaweed tangled among stones. Fragments of shells. Half crabs. Splinters of sunwashed bone. Hear the song of the waves drifting out drifting in. Redwinged Blackbird calls from undercover of wild roses.
Driftwood messengers
Heartbeat rhythm on the wind
Shifts of time
clarity
contemplate your resurrection path
winds are strong today
avert the fragile makers
empty vessels travel weightless
anchors having all rusted away
your hair obscures your view
yet you see what needs be seen
a blurring
a sign
a single thread
soft speaking from the edge of
a craggy cliff
a hem of your old sweatshirt
How small are we how
quiet at the core in grief
when we have known love
Who calls it Winter
Maybe not anyone
Maybe Winter ought be Wither
an unsettling in becoming undone
Through our adventure cycle we endure
So much unknown ready yet still unsure
We are not captains of our own journeys
until we’ve sailed far and long vast seas
Rejected perfection abandoned second looks
How fortunate the few among many
Who discover knowledge secreted in books
As vision grows blurred our steps grow slow
As thin petals yellow our music hums low
May your withering come easy
May your wisdom stay well hid
May your death pass swift and unexpected
like your brief illustrious lifetime did.
You must be shoeless
to feel stepping stones
You must be quiet
to hear songs of ancient bones
You must be ready
to catch a star
when it arrives midday
Photo tilts left
in the room of messy flowers
Light splashes shadows
these old silenced walls
Rest your head
for an evening
Lay it down, you wandering traveler
Everything yearned for lives
out of reach but still in sight
Boots on at dawn
Turning page, young seeker
Toss those maps over the ledge
Step one, you are ready
eyes bright with colour
Black and white was just a crack
drawing you in
Your beginning
itchi-go itchi-e
these present moments
precious fleeting
as are we
It’s 2018:
Life remains imperfect
but it remains
Limit The News
Screen poison Points of View
Forgive when you can
And, oh yeah, live with Gratitude
More Art, less
More Music, less
More Love, less
More Laughter, less
More Generosity, less
More Compassion, less
More Understanding, less
More Curiosity, less
More Peace, less
More Cooperation, less
More Kindness, less
More Listening, less
More Gratitude, less
More Respect, less
More Friendship, less
More Hope, less
More Consideration, less
More Joy, less
More Courage, less
More Welcoming,
More Light, less
More Discourse, less
More Truth, less
More Life, less
More Sharing, less
More Hello, less…
Building cairns out of stones and leaves
and bits of trees forest sea debris
everywhere I go I leave a print a hint
shred or shadow a little piece of me
i may have said once long ago invisible
is the one and only honest way to be
but i must have left a door ajar
perceptions change I’ve travelled far
what i feel is real is it’s alright if when
my time is past a stranger or almost friend
finds among fragments along life’s path
remembrance of the presence i once wore
Pencil Notes 