In the morning I look out my window and everything is still there like it was the day before. it is with this predictability that when I look out to the blackened sky on a starry night I know God must be out there, somewhere.
In the midst of catching a glimpse of such a wonderful fluttering butterfly I was born I wondered who would know it was once a caterpillar without knowing them? and, then came the dark clouds in a flurry and thunder clapping the lightening flashing the rain pounding down I wondered where the butterfly had gone… Continue reading In the midst
I have told you I walk into my sanctuary. there, I see the birds, flowers, grass, a tree and vines growing up my block wall. all these, God's children, at play in his garden.
Everyday, be thankful with an open heart to all of nature up and down... to the sky, moon and sun above. for, flowers have their own way as does the grass covering the ground
home again, surrounded by trees. my dearest trees. weeping leaves. arms of branches. they know I'm here. they know I love them. they feel me and I feel them. they are aware. they know things. there is nothing I like better than to be surrounded by trees. for, they call out to me. and, I… Continue reading Surrounded by trees
These days, I ask for little. How I love the natural world. it never fails to renew my spirit. just sitting in my backyard. surrounded by this simplicity makes me new again. it brings a feeling of agelessness to my old bones, all within the presence of that magical vibration. I sit there hoping some… Continue reading Sitting in my backyard
Years ago a shrink diagnosed me as 'neurotic'. Imagine that. what a surprise, a poem writer who's neurotic. Gee, how often could that happen? seems to add fuel to my posts. it's nice to know when you're in good company. Some poets had a harder life than I. Poe drank heavily. He collapsed and died… Continue reading Neurotic and proud of it
Time spent surrounded by nature is where one may renew his soul, if he is so inclined. yet, nature is everywhere, no less a flower in a glass.
Pastels in nature in this field of weeds I cannot let go of it it is infused within my very bones these greens, blues, yellows and browns this sunlight, this warmth it is time and my life depends upon it yet, I cannot part with it Of this I am because as I sit hidden… Continue reading This field of weeds
As it rains I look out my window. I sit here now. looking. listening. warm inside. the sound of rain. the smell of rain. the beauty of it we cannot recreate. if I could be alive forever, I would want to see the rain falling. it is though, enough doing for now. the sound of… Continue reading As it rains