Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

My View in the Evening

Autumn 2020
Morning overture
trek shore of eternal soul
don the evening’s shawl

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. John Muir

People. We are complicated and simple. We are shy and rowdy. We are there in the city and here in the country. We are seen and invisible. We exist and then die.

We are, in the quiet pause, an eruption. And will always be the star.

Posted in Photography, Poetry, prose

Hush

Quick, tell me, what is the state of the world?

On a July morning, in the height of summer, the ants are busy on the sunflowers. Today, I wake to the same routine regardless of the weather. The coffee poured, I light a candle.

They are hens in their own right.

Glistening green in the sun’s heightened shadow, I wonder if i should write a letter to a friend. The thought fleeting. I don’t want to add my emotions to his already pocket full of pleas. I let my mind settle into this opened space. Drum out the crinkle of autumn leaves and find solace in my reverie.

When we return to the land, will our hearts be able? The hours bend into baskets, carrying our troubles downstream, where the beavers damn us for wanting freedom. Will we ever furnish a house with all our plans?

You see me. I love 
my love in thought.
Can you know
the waiting fires the bones?
Posted in Photography, Poetry

Far and Wide Her Wings Spread

Whispered Myth
Just below the surface lies
a weathered heart
shriveled from windscape
and bolting sun
harassed by a fury mind
full of horrid song.

Hear the chorus
beating the ceremony drum?
Notice the rustling grasses
break free from their dying arms?
Her nest, airborne
now drifting on the waves
of an endless tomorrow.

Where to land
where to roost
no lover to confess
her secrets saved
for stone arrest
in silent reverie.
Posted in Photography, Poetry, quotes, Soul Journal

My Promise Garden

There exists a place
where grace imparts
a smile on every face.

Where flowers bloom
and chicks do roam
and honeybees buzz about.

The woods they speak
of you and me
we set a spot of tea.

The wild creatures
come and romp
dance so gaily.

And in the end
our heads will root
between the dappled sun.

I am always grateful the days depression departs my soul. Today I feel free… How are you? 🙏🏼💙🌊

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Dance Upon the Waters

Wayward Be. Being Me.
Because life is random.
What of the melting snow
and drifting sand?
He ponders the arrows
of a cloud’s gripping hand.
Watches wind shake her hair.

To spy the girl
steady on the cliff
she guards a boat
where sea roses bloom
honorably for self and man.

She whispers in his storm
“Let me be.”
Forever wayward
in search of soul
yet able to find her way
back home.
Posted in Poetry, short fiction

dilemma 

Always a man, the little boy picked up his trucks. It most certainly was not his decision. He had rather destroy than keep order. Chaos, a game to play. And nothing was squared away that day.

With time, his anger grew
loudly inside
but politely kept at bay. Inner demons kept vigil,
camped around the fire to stay warm.

Years pass. Mornings grow into nights and boys grow into men. He was quite a catch, his father would say. Some girl would come visit to take his heart far away. He would vanish forever, his mother’s greatest fear.

War settled upon the earth. The boy-man set off for a foreign land, leaving behind his loves. His parents and new bride waved goodbye with no answers.

The mind wins over peace and erupts upon a credulous society. Everyone wonders still, what has gone wrong for so many centuries.