Dad made a kite
Out of paper and wood
And a white, ripped up sheet for a tail.
We all watched with wonder when without any wind
He could make his kite rise up and sail!
The trick, he would tell us
Is to run just a bit, then let the string play out just so.
There is wind up above us that you cannot see
It will make the kite rise up and go.

Up went his kite
High up over the trees
And soon it was up with clouds.
It dipped, skipped and twirled as he tightened his rein
“It’s DANCING!” we shouted out loud!
The kite, he would tell us
Responds to your touch, don’t hold it too loose or too tight.
Be forgiving, yet firm, let it fly by itself
And most times it will turn out all right.

Dad gave the kite
To the youngest child there,
And the rest of us waited our turn.
The kite soared, then collapsed; our confidence too
Dad taught; we attempted to learn.
Life, he would tell us
Is like flying a kite, you hold on but you cannot control.
Don’t let a failure or lack of success
Stop you from reaching your goal.

Be like the kite
Reach as high as you can
Set your goals high, and dance with the clouds!
Respect and remember the wind you can’t see.
It’s your Faith that will make others proud.
Faith, he would tell us
Is the courage to fly, and belief in a Presence unseen.
But most of all Faith is the strength to go on
When your kite gets stuck high in a tree.
PwL 3/30/15

Eyes** closed
Hands
Opened wide
Barefoot
A sunshine gown.
Standing on
The greenish meadow
Nothing
But me and the air
Raindrops
Falling swiftly
Just a dream

A rose is obliged
To have a thorn
As companion.

We are wired for anonymity , yet ..
We jot foolishness on paper in the hope of pack acceptance , we strive for
a rhyme , tell of our fears on a lark then fire machine guns into the dark
We choose honor in the light but in the lonely night we just don't give
a **** , we jam another magazine and fire at will without giving a **** who we hit , that's the split second home where mans consciousness truly lives* ...

the misty raindrops collect on
the glass in front of me
as they dance across the windshield
I let my eyes blur

the out of focus somehow brings things far more into clarity
as the streams of drops connect in ways that I couldn't envision
I noticed the patterns
seem all-too-familiar

Noticing...
this thing that happens when mindless chatter stops
when all the blurry lines connect,
can I actually see?

I remember that day when I made a declaration to someone's mom who didn't really care
That day, when I stood proudly and said I'm moving to gold country
where dreams never sleep

with rolling hills, covered in golden grass as far as the eye can see
Where passion runs freely through the valleys, up the mountains and leaping off into the foggy sunsets

I'm moving to gold country where the weather is always perfect and life just seems easier somehow

Perfect

Such a strange word really, as I believe perfect doesn't actually exist

I moved to gold country where it never rains just sunshine and daydreams

Sometimes I miss the rain

The showers of perfection that seem to wash off all the things that hold me back
The pools of raindrops that house the wildest of childhood fantasies

I remember the times,  in the mostly forgotten past
Sitting on the front porch, rocking in chairs that only squeaked when we sang

That childhood of long ago that's only lost in the longing of playing in the puddles
too big for one little girl

I remember the times
where we sat quietly listening to the thunder in the distance just far enough to connect the dots and lead us through the clouds on the backs of dragons to where the magic is hidden deep within the greatness of the sky

Watching quietly
as the majestic clouds burst open with these tiny droplets of rain that seemed to form sheets of blue, grey and what true perfection really is

I remember the times
sitting on that porch, watching the storms and nothing else mattered

Lost in the sea of rain that seemed to open the sky to everything I've ever hoped for

Sometimes I miss the rain