The lotus flower in my pond sends it’s roots down deep and from the silent darkness come up blossoms ever sweet.
Did we really think that war can be quick and painless or smart bombs bloodless and wise? (Wiser than those who sent them?) That soldiers and mercenaries caught up in hate would be loving or compassion would outweigh self righteousness and greed? Do you ever cry on a rainy day mourning as a mother whose
Wild sweet peas in shades of vibrant pinks mingle with tall grasses along the unmown roadway. A young snapping turtles dark green shelled body is visible inching across the road I pull over and move him along to the other side. Water, hills and sky of indigo, greens and forget-me-not blue mingle with the late
The mother reached down into the out stretched arms of the dark, curly haired little boy. So moved by the image, so universal in it’s scope, (was I in Korea, Iraq or Iran, Lebanon, Israel or Sudan?) I felt a lump well up in my throat. “Parents everywhere love their children, don’t they?” I said
Sun shinning Rain falling Breeze blowing Neighbors visiting Children swimming Strangers walking Daisies rocketing Vines ripening Raspberries fruiting Fish fattening Frogs sunning Blue Heron hunting Mamma Duck quacking Squirrels snacking Dog, too tired, napping Nothing lacking
In the wee early morn of summer while humans and dogs still slumber I awaken to an orchestra of crickets and frogs. I arise to my chair where I hear the grand fare and notice the progression of song. In the distance an owl closer a robin begins her soliloquy. But
The cicada landed upon the dress of the groom’s mother and began to sing.