Dreaming in the Sun

The air is full of small insects
playfully looping and dancing around
lush greenery, still tender with dew drops . . .
and the happy faces of yellow flowers,
pointed toward the sun,
bob beneath the tender touch of a mild breeze,
or the administration 
of a pollen coated honey bee . . .

The warm sun glows and
we forgive him his long journey . .. 
a distance taken behind stormy clouds . . .
The air is redolent with a sweet perfume,
like a river of delicate surprises. . .
a scent skimming off 
a snow white blossom covered tree . . .
petals flutter down . .  


Somewhere a crow calls
and I see the serene face
of a daydreaming ape . . 
carved on an old fence post . . 
a face reflecting mine, somewhat . . .
as I drift away
wrapped in the warm arms of a skyward furnace,
while I watch a small pair of black spiders
scurry up the post, dancing in the sunlight
like lovers . . .

So many shades of green . . .
the tender, furry, yellow new growth . . 
mingles with the deep emerald purity
of maturity, shining like jewels
. . . twinkling . . .or matte and still,
like moss on an old stump . . 
green stalks of grass are
spears pointed toward the day star . . 
a forest . . . and the golden light
exposes their thin veins in yellow . . 

Silver filaments of spider web
span the abyss between islands of growth,
quivering like a harp string
plucked by unknown fingers . . .
dramatic and bowing as rainbows
after the storm . . . 


Birds fill the soundwaves
with song,
pearls on a line . . .
linking my heart . . . 
with the universe . . .
and the sun fills my soul
with memories,
of the divine . . . 

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An artist share from Jamendo . . . such beautiful music . . . I have also shared this artist's web page in my sidebar of favorites . . . check it out:

Royalty Free Music - Stock Music Library | Jamendo PRO

One Morning Moment

Relax
The frost has only moments to live . . 
The sun has long arms and reaches down to pluck
the cold blooms to disperse
them into the quietude of the still atmosphere
Dream
The birds are singing
familiar refrains, meant to sooth
your rumpled and bewildered soul
Watch
The golden flowers quietly open a multitude
of petals and nod in the gentle breeze
as crowns of down fluff
up into a waiting sky
Listen
A story reveals itself as another day
ephemeral and transient 
as a glistening bubble
drifts through on the wings of angels
Peace
The robin chirps
and the clouds glow
a certain soft amber
shaded by deep purple
              companions.. .
The early morning storm has just passed,
leaving rivulets
to reflect a beckoning blue sky
And I reflect on
loneliness
as a solitary bird
ascends towards
the drifting clouds
and disappears into the silhouettes 
of trees standing  
together
as if giving strength . .  one to one . ..

*******************


This page is dedicated to a friend on FaceBook . . . 
who lives across the Columbia from me . .. 
He reminds me that we are all lost and lonely 
and trying to seek the answer 
to a question we have long ago forgotten . . .  
"Why . . . " 
We are all searching, 
in our own way - 
not because we want to be loved . .  
but because we want to love . . .

What I Understand . . .

What am I . . . ?
a piece of flesh
a colony of cells . .
a near dispersal of atoms
along a line of time . . .
somehow coordinated . . . compelled
to form a familiar figure .. .. something
recognizable . . . something, yet vague . . .
like a flail of corn silk. . .
or a jellyfish of the deep .  .

and here are
planets tugging on the strings
of my heart . . . I dream
of something so ephemeral
that my vision is but blindness
and the bits of me . . . like fragile bubbles . . .
incoherent with struggling goals,
and I envision the beyond . . . where
I am not welcome . . . not yet . . .
where angels gather in glory
and colors beyond my spectrum . .
each shape a home,
each breeze a wing displaced . .

I move my head and find your eyes
looking into mine . . .
there a reflection of me . . . 
and I dive into the rippling pool of your heart . .
beating, bloody and warm . . .
with a life not yet fully disclosed . . .
each moment held fragile,
the future a tale yet untold . .
the past a watery dream . . . fading . .  fading . .
a hot coal in the center of each chest
thrives on the unimagined . . .
I sense the eons of pressure . . . building,
creating diamonds of untold glory
within the caged center of the living . . .
and the of the dispersed . . . those
who have traveled on . . .

I reach out with fingers . . .
almost unthinking
to touch your tender cheek . . .
and watch you blink . . . one drop . . .
a tear strolls down the curve of your face . .
something presents itself . . . circular . . .
sorrow becoming joy . . .
conflict falling into peace . . .
a flower blooms and then withers . .
a life renewed . . . what is it that is so deeply buried -
and flies with the wings of subtlety,
building a breeze to tower . . . and envelope . . .
like the color of golden yellow . .  emanating from the nearest star . .
blazing . . . an entity arisen from the divine . .
nothing and then something . . . .

I am humbled before your scorn . . .
your judgement seems to know me . .
even beyond my knowledge . .  for
I see so many sides . . . to the proverbial coin . .  though
your footsteps walk before me .  . leaving me
in the dust of your contempt . . . you seem to have a
multitude . .  with you . . .
for so many have evaluated the soul of me . . .
my choices having gathered a chaos . . .
where no definition of hope resides . . .
My days are numbered and I am weak from age . . .
years of walking a rough road . . .
hesitating at each fork . . .
I take the one that offers adventure . .
and knowledge . . and the brilliance of a star . . .
I take the one that offers love . . .

I understand your need for perfection . . .
yet wholeness and absolute  control continues
to elude you . . .
I see the world around me .  . as muddy . . .
a mix of flesh and fire . . .
emotions and desire . . .
dreams and reality . .
what we see at the end of the rainbow . . .
that old elusive struggle,
meets us at the end of our days . . .
The oblivion of death . . .
faded memories . . . like the tattered flag of the Universe
waving lonely in the breeze;
we exist . .  and yet we don't . .. 
as transparent as forgiveness . . . 
as profound as reconciliation . . .
as ephemeral 
as tomorrow . . .

Running in Place . . .

camellia . . . Spring 2012

Experiencing a Broken Eardrum . . .
Voices waver around me so distant and watery . . .
and not being able to discern from where noise emanates,
my head swivels like a nervous mantis . . .
wary of sound .. .. startled by movement . . .
I find myself being gentler . . . kinder, to compensate
for something lacking in me .  . . the children hug me more . . .
as if they sense that brokenness in me . . .
Experiencing deafness . . .  my left ear
reverberates with its own voice . . aching with want . . .
broken . . . it fails me profoundly,
giving me vertigo . ..  a sensation of
continual inebriation  . .  and the sad inability
to hear surround sound music . . .
I listen to my favorite tunes . . .
but they bounce around, lonely, and hollow,
in my right ear . . . an entity of sound, desperate sound . .
making an inroad into my soul . . . my brain. . .
cracking the stone . . . disturbing the stillness . . .
The boy at the early morning bus stop
exclaims at the beautiful song of the birds . . .
and though I know the robin's voice . .
as if it were my own child's . ..  the "cheer-uppp"
is flat and unmoving to my ear . ..
but I smile at this enthusiasm
of my sensitive, young friend . . .
and his wish for a "good" microphone
to catch this magical sound . . .
I too wish for something to hold life's music . . .
for me . . . the song of the bird
is more precious as it grows distant . . . in my memories . . .
my own voice, sounds numb . . . and strained . . 
to my lonely ear . . .
and friends speaking into the dead orifice 
wait for me to respond . . . and
I must remind them  . ..
I am deaf there . . .. 
temporarily . . .
I hope . .

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Spring Flowers 2012

A mountain reigns where
blue poppies
in the shadows of the bosom,
like a river, flashes and
ripples in the breezes,

dances in sunny meadow . . ..
golden bees,
green fern encasing,
and a pungent scent
of emerald exhales
from the melting dampness,
while tiny daisies
with beckoning white arms
daintily embrace the miniscule,
like suns capturing planets in
a dance of awareness
through the dewy dawns of time
. . . a dreamy light strokes the shoulder
of the feeding doe
meandering through the flow
of soft blue poppy petals . . .

reflected as glowing purple globes

in the large shiny orbs,

the bottomless depths of the

brown eyes of the deer . . .

Crocuses . . . Spring 2012

Jorisma . . .  ElectroPop

Always a good listen . . .

Royalty Free Music - Stock Music Library | Jamendo PRO