there are these days — times
with their agates and whirlpools
today, good morning!
there are these days — times
with their agates and whirlpools
today, good morning!
sunlight in canyons
as a Bee is to flower
smile, and hands. Nana
you are potential
distance and angle of me
pulls you together
ducklings form a mass
that calls for all the pigments
listening to birds
on my forest runs
awareness of light; contrast;
small bubbly fractals
vortex of petals
nodes in the past and future
a vibrant puddle
be the blank canvas
glazing ice on leaf and limb
tributaries — gone
your feet hold freedom
so humbling, loving, and kind
reveal gratitude
I have a secret.
lets us forget what it is
spirals of corners
we run the same paths
bring brown creepers to focus
reaching skyward — up
fractions of flowers
the same and yet different
reflect and renew
tip top, fir tree crow
but drops — collecting, dripping
p of finding nuts
shoes of sand and moss
I fly with all of them that
harbinger of spring
we all need this path
that practice the art of firm
that lead to wonder
I found a carcass
whispered to my deepest self
the shadows today
let us hold it all
appear on my walkabouts
wrapping around beams
like the heat bubble
immense, vast, ocean of mist
to then turn around
gaze in reflection
that calls for all the pigments
to the summers end
what once brought me joy
that provide us with brilliance
as pink fades to night
sky sits on the ground
better plotted in polar
in this little pond