As night falls, the sun
serenades my soul –
Beauty wraps my heart
in somnolent ecstacy
paints my mood
with shades of love
reality out of focus –
imagination floats, full sail
into a dreamy mist,
delightful course,
a symphony of hues
coaxing welcome slumber.
(Image my own)
I love this quotation. I feel as if ‘cynicism’ has long been a companion of mine. She creeps into my writing and undermines my sleep. She is overridden, however, by my desire to make a difference.
As a teacher, I had plenty of opportunities to offer hope and substance to my students, but that has changed now. Age and illness have greatly reduced my contact with others. The striving is harder, and yet, just as applicable.
A teacher of mine once said that we are like tuning forks – our vibration, our energy, our attitude influencing those around us.
I keep these words close to mind. A worthy goal for living each day.
Like this Carolina Wren, I’m fixing my gaze on the unknown, senses alert. Temperatures are rising, we’re almost half way through July, and I’m feeling my determination strengthen. What change is on the horizon?
I’ll be over here pondering.
The woman in the mirror is flawed
age spots where freckles once sprouted,
streaks of white, peppering former auburn,
inner scars marking discontent.
How then is she expected
to know wholeness?
In days when mind was sharp
self-confidence wobbled;
where spirituality was planted,
self-judgment undermined.
The path to wholeness
pitted with potholes.
How often emotion overrode
common sense, and choices
led her astray, how thick
the mud of guilt she mired in.
Repulsed at her own reflection
she was anything but whole.
Less self-defacing these days
she examines the worn bits
with wry acceptance –
acknowledges the toil.
If wholeness is perfection,
she’s ready to let go.
(Image my own. AI enhanced)
Therapy is drudging up old feelings – places where I tend to get stuck. I don’t have the answers I need to move on yet, so all I can do is breathe through the moments and be mindful in the present.
A wren showed up the other day,
heard him before I saw him,
took over the Chickadee nest,
killed the babies and settled in.
Nature is like that.
I witness with horror and awe
the chickadees move on –
reproduction is industry –
I watch the wren couple now
build their nest and sing aloud
Goldfinches love the chase,
yellow darts of joy;
I shoo away the Grackles
bully birds from my angle
but they know I mean no harm
Only the Cooper’s hawk
commands silence
birds scattering in cover of green,
fierce eyes scour the yard –
I cannot look away
Someone’s been digging
in the flower bed,
hibiscus tops disappearing
the gardener outsmarted,
and delighted, at every turn
A bobcat showed up at dusk
prowling the perimeter
the lush offerings tempting
despite the proximity of a house.
Coyote has braved it too
Heat confines me indoors,
sun twinkling off swaying leaves,
humid the breeze that compels them.
Later they’re calling for storms
a tumultuous reprieve
Sunrise and we’ll begin again
routines and surprises
birdsong and animal antics;
me in my chair, mesmerized.
Nature is like that.
(Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 