Under the pale blue sky
A small bird chirps softly as it watches the world go by.
Soft green grasses wave in the breeze
As the rose's heavy perfume tickles my nose and makes me sneeze.
Your eyes dart toward me, a dashing golden hue
And I stand stalk still to study you.
Long ears flick back and forth, covered in waves of silk
And I can make out a small cotton tail the color of buttermilk.
You glance over your shoulder, wide eyes studying me
before you spring across the meadow, happily free.

I walk here daily

Amidst the greens, corn, and flowers

The flowers were not my idea but I love them just the same

The thin layer of mud keeps each foot company

The familiarity of the garden is comforting even if we haven’t planted it… yet

Remember those days,
when we’d jump in the car and find ourselves
somewhere fifty miles south?

Or when we’d decide on a Wednesday
that it was the time for an adventure,
the purple pom pom on your dashboard
fluttering in the summer wind.

Where did those days go?

Why have we left them behind,
the exhilarating, spontaneous, unsure
best days of our lives?

We have traded them for days locked in,
watching the snow fall outside rather
than being the ones outside chasing it.

How surreal it is,
lofted above the wrinkles in the landscape,
where clouds settle like a dropped cloth
on peaks and valleys,
to find distance.

Yet how surreal to be grounded!
To reach overhead and let morning dew
travel down your fingers,
to explore the splintered surface
of golden timber not yet weathered.

Cliffs tower above
Stars paint the sky with dancing light
As the young doe sleeps.

Wind whistles through trees
Blowing pebbles through meadows
And ruffling fur.

mindfulness on nature's needles
see the sky's brightness turned to max over hand prints
planned trips of impromptu gladness exceeds all
of every expectations, I breathe tall
I feel small, but content
the world's beauty just will never relent

it is my perception that ebbs and flows
my imperfections that make me glow
and my intentions that seem to go
in all directions connected expressions
I feel the calm of love and acception
within is lifted, the self-oppression
I'm blissed out this yoga session

Water crashes.
Rumbles and echoes on the rocks.
Cool mist fills the air.
Above, a river falls off a cliff,
while below, it falls off another.
A bridge beneath my feet.
Green plants.
People taking pictures.
A wooden lodge for dining,
with a gift shop.
The hum of a freeway.
A river with barges.
The sound of a train.
The wild meets man,
at the waterfall.

It is for no ill will, no caprice on the part of fire, but for love. Man wakens fire from sleep, feeds her, cares for her, and keeps her alive. And so she smiles on him with friendly light, warms him, whispers to him mysterious songs, and drives away all that would sting, bite, harass, or harm. For as man loves fire, so fire loves man and delights in his company, all the more in wild and lonely places.