If thoughts could colour our world
then each breath would express
a new hue, discovery a game
of wonder…
But, I sit here, muted
afraid of words too black or white,
afraid I’ll only encounter
sharp edges…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
A landmark in my life, the river follows
ages, and eras: seasons measured by her flow
She acknowledges changes, bears the winter
regally, swells with confidence as Spring rains
Will walk beside me in sunnier times, and
hold my secrets as Autumn catches us in her flames
She holds my heart, my faith, always knows
and at the end of the day, oh how she glows.
(Originally posted on One Woman’s Quest II, March 2019. Image my own)
Absent solar motivation
I contemplate grey
for grey’s sake…
How despite the dullness
grey does offer a valid backdrop
for white’s delicate presence
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
No big box here
our shops line up
in historic rows
Our fragance
eau-de-ferme
earthen fresh
Our spires reminders
that values are simple
and life blessed.
(Photo mine)
How the young sparkle
dreams of Santa’s arrival –
I drink of their cup
borrow the giddy whimsy –
Joy a welcome contagion.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Moody, these December skies
brooding chill interrupted
by sun’s sudden emergence
To hibernate, or brace
the wind; stiffen protectively
or inhale invigoration
Caution guides my steps
intimate with wintry passages
acknowledging that I am December…
(Image my own)
If we could see the soul
comprehend the construct
outline each contour
sip the sacredness –
Would there then be peace?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
The loon’s call
pierces complacency…
I spiral backwards,
inwards – depths
of dream forgotten –
an eerie awakening.
(Image my own)
Neighbour locates dandelions,
meticulously digs up roots
muttering incoherently
in a gruff brogue
I ignore his temper, watch
the yellow-crowned beauties
surge beneath a warming sun;
hum a childish tune –
Dandelions wink.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter. Image my own)
I’ve lived the fog of distance –
life’s highway a series of dips,
destination without promise
Learned that acceptance gains perspective
that climates change, and hope sustains,
and that in the stillness dreams renew.
I travel quieter paths now; appreciate
space – have surrendered to present distance,
certain that this too will change.
(Borrowed from One Woman’s Quest II, April, 2020. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 