Sky Blind

Have you ever seen
A sky so crystalline blue
It makes the clouds dance?

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Bridges

Originally posted on spanishwoods:

photo by Sylvia

photo by Sylvia

from me to you
and you to him
from cold to warm
from sink to swim
from sad to mad
and sea to land
from life to life
and back again

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Perfect

How many fall walks
with you, my love, are distilled
In this perfect day?

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The Gift

New with every dawn,
Every day the world reborn.
We begin again.

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Posted in haiku, Musings, Nature, Philosophy, Photography, Poetry, Spirituality, Wiseacre Way Photos | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

Passage

A sweet morning mist.

Still sotted with summer, the

Goose flight brings a chill.

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Four Boys, A Late Summer Afternoon

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Four boys run with glee,
Joyous, across the grass, filled with expectations.

Their discovery?
A drying mud hole where a small pond used to be.

An eyesore to me,
They see ripe mystery, a
Discovery place.

At first they spread out,
Vantage points loudly exclaimed,
They start to explore.

Quizzically eyeing
The sun-baked mud, two dig with
stick and rock, intent.

The other two pause,
Seeming to forget why. Each
Looks at the other.

A shout brings them in.
They gather around one boy,
Intent on his find.

He digs, they stand by,
Their excitement palpable.
Long seconds tick by.

The digger shoots up.
He holds his prize to the sky.
They pull together.

Heads bowed in earnest
Wonder, they examine it,
Pass it all around.

Then they hear the call,
A parent’s summons. They turn,
Filled with reluctance.

One by one they go.
Leaving Indy Jones behind.
His gaze follows them.

Pulled himself now, he
Examines his find, looks up,
Tosses it away.

The prize forgotten,
He sprints, his friends way ahead,
And never looks back.

Tonight, as they sleep
They will each dream of their own
version of treasure.

Their paths, enormous
mysteries, still hold magic
possibility.

 

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