Morning, Nine-five,
To the tiny flowers in your garden,
And celestial ongoing bloom.
To the cadence of the sudden
Bird awakened in the noon.

Morning, Nine-five,
To a drop of light that slithers down
Down the smooth of shins and to your ankles.
Morning to the heedless way it gowns
Tips of feet unhid,
Naked toes uncovered by your blanket.

Morning, Nine-five.

LOST IN SPACE

Standing, staring out into the bright night sky will I once again be wrapped into the wonder of how far off we can truly wander

Taking it all in with that first wink ,if not caught up,it will be lost with a blink

Reflections from unnatural city lights a hindrance ,still looking up will leave my current thoughts asunder

Our many days leave us waiting for the stillness of the night ,hovering above with blues or blacks like ink

Often only following east to west ,sunrise or sunset each carries it's own luster

Moonshadows or sunburns we are small under the brilliance of it all,again peering out leaving us with so much more to think

Caught amongst the quagmires of constellations,whimsical lines ,connecting dots bringing our musings to muster

Often blessed with wonderous moonglow or simply with a pleasant crescent still we adore the obelisk

Do we have an inkling what is contained in that distant twinkling ,just left to sit in awe under its cover  R.C.

Everybody has questions.
Sometimes, our questions have questions.
Questions that haunt us;
questions that rid us of our sleep.
And we are all seeking for answers;
that little jigsaw puzzle piece
that completes the whole picture.
Some can easily be found;
others can take years, even ages.
And there are some that cannot be found at all.
That does not mean those answers were lost.
Sometimes, you are better off not finding it.
Maybe, you are not ready for it just yet.
Or maybe, just maybe; the answer is
right there in front of you.
But you choose not to see it;
because it is not the answer that you want.