You ask
where ‘will you be this time next year‘
While I
look past your shoulder at some shiny thing
Your smile
says ‘I must be patient with her mind‘
I see
hummingbird contemplate a sip of nectar
Your look
repeats the question with another tone
I say
Yes I shall look here deep into my bowl
We know
All that will be is there to know
While you are sleep dreaming
a trio of shadows alights in your room
You might hear their faint chorus
a distant melody deep sweet and low
What message their voices whisper
a calm symphony or euphonious hum
Gifts they leave for discovery
light passages welcome a new day
Lift your eyes toward ceiling at dawn
imagine there cloudless quiet skies
Three shadows meet in your window
looking in looking out through you
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.
Waves toss stones onshore From what depths have they travelled Light and heavy days
in this way you find separation
paths familiar yet unmarked
wade into tall fragrant grasses
caresses soft as spring butterfly wings
nature’s choir harmonic tuning
humming from your chest
test your equilibrium
one leg raised for motion
hush your paradiddle heart
chin anointing clavicle
closed eyes filter morning’s sacred light
home home crescendo
sustain your hallelu
hold it close inhale inhabit
invest your all
linger with your knowing gaze
you may never feel
this ready
so alive again
https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-nbb3d-10b7d0c
Short pieces inspired by Twitter prompts and other thought while sleeping quiet under an open rainless summer sky.
We exist but not alone. We create from what we may think we know but all knowledge exists in the collective well from which we draw our small dipper these few drops we may hold fast. Palm as precious stones. We may claim as our own. Briefly.
Hurry your eloquent passion
Time slicing devisor of measures
Breathing’s an act of deliberate intention
Dancers like you touching ground
Leave no trace evidence for eyes
Resting comes soon with practice
A bench to contemplate grace
Warmed by hours in afternoon sunlight
Twilight arrives with patient treasure
Gathered from days of the world
https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-atgky-1065097
A brief story poem of solitude and ice, dream and journey.
Mother with Child
quiet in this deep wild
She smiles when I come around
Afternoons I bring white rose petals
fallen from my gardens in bloom
Drop my offering slow to soft earth
Then settle awhile
beneath a canopy of peace green
Read one chapter aloud
to anyone gathering here.
Pencil Notes 