Christmas
is in the simple joys of living
It’s in reading a story to the kids at bedtime
and having your neighbors over for dinner
It’s in a good bottle of wine
and a mug of hot cider after two hours of shoveling
and eggnog in the morning while still in your robe
It’s in black and white movies
and old Frank Sinatra records
and waltzing in the living room when you’re sure nobody’s around…
Innocence
Capture the winds of innocence
shades on the moon
glowing soft in the distance…
A voice rose to greet me in the forest
as if it came from nowhere
It seemed to surround me
pervading everything
It echoed
in the crackling twigs of my footfalls…
An old cottonwood stands jauntily outside my window
I sometimes watch it as I lie in bed
when the cool smell of rain is on the air
I can hear the wind in the distance
but the tree stays quiet…
Leaves moving like waves on the wind
and the sunshine filtering through on the breeze
to spin the spectrum on a multitude of greens.
The trunks stoic and brown and still
tower over the stairs diving down to the wide
waterfront…
bring me
strength
of talons and flight
Like an orange note
of
plaid youth
carried on the low hang
of mist
rolling…
Nepal
Palettes,
Drawing dreams,
Sketching the duration of sleep
it seems, I paint my dreams with all the tints and tones…
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