Morning Meditation
pollen falls like golden rain tiny wrens flutter green fingers wave good morning Continue reading Morning Meditation
Tag: Nature
A Day In The Crescent
It’s another balmy day in paradise. I push down the plunger in the French Press, inhaling the earthy aroma of the blackest of coffees called Community. The morning paper lies on the coffee table waiting for its unfolding, opening and adjusting shake. “Sneaking Sally Through The Alley” is dancing out of the Boze, WWOZ accommodating its listeners with the best music in the country, bar none. Noise from the street wafts through the open French doors: the rummmm-rummmm of the city bus, the high-pitched laughter of kids on Christmas break, the artificially cheerful greeting of “order when you’re ready!” … Continue reading A Day In The Crescent
The Time In Between
It’s the day after Christmas and the rain falls, first a light mist just to get us used to it, then a steady falling like the currents of the river two blocks away. The air smells clean and wet, the birds are chirping and fluttering in the old pear tree – are they singing good wishes for the New Year as the rain washes away the doubts and regrets of the past to make way for the hopes and anticipation of the future? Or is it only my foolish daydreaming once again, wishing away reality. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Shared on dVerse Poets … Continue reading The Time In Between
Wingless
We watched for the return of the birds. The air around the house was silent and devoid of flutterings, a vacuum of tweets and whistles. What straggling flowers were left went hummingbirdless while twigs and string were just twigs and string with no hope of sheltering featherless offspring. It was strangely quiet, as though they were all sucked into a void somewhere and became dinosaurs again in another dimension. Kind of like our love, they were a wondrous memory for a time until slowly finding their way back home. Continue reading Wingless
Cold Front
I want to listen to the wind. I turn off the lamp and snuggle in my bed underneath an extra blanket, my feet warm in socks that go abandoned in summer. I wriggle my toes against the enclosed softness and watch the shadows of the palms sway behind the curtains. All is still save for the swishing of the wind and the wriggling of my toes. Continue reading Cold Front
TS Lee, 5:45 a.m.
We’re winning. So say the progenitors of such things. I hang onto that thought in the night when the wind gnashes its phantom teeth on the palms and bullwhips crack the sky. __________________________________ Shared on Poet’s United. Continue reading TS Lee, 5:45 a.m.
June
I want to run naked down a pier and dive into cold clear lake waters, engulfed in liquid exultation. I want to make bracelets of clover and stack them up my arms to the elbows, adorned with the nectar of grace. I want to drive down long twisted roads in the country with the windows down, the breath of shade and sun flowing coolness and warmth. I want to watch lightning bugs flash in the quiet of an evening, neon poke-a-dots against the earths’ closed eyes. I want to fill my lungs with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, light-headed and … Continue reading June
