thoughts
When the wind whips
though not gently, cool
on a summer day
rather throwing dust
into your eyes
upturning your umbrella
shifting your feet
or turning your stern
...we take a moment,
we course correct,
we wipe our eyes,
find our footing,
look for our north star
—wiser, braver,
we journey on.
I heard the tick, then the tock the wind blew and time moved without a sound or bright lights reliable, consistent, on the stroke like...
It's been days now with uncertain skies and gentle mists awakening me at dawn. Oh bliss, permission to enter the abyss to write a poem...
It's natural to flourish, to yearn to be Like a tree, a plant, a flower, reaching, growing, toward the sun sometimes even taking great...
Comments