Poetry
Bring me the openness of the sky. Bless my feeble attempts at life. If I withdraw folding myself smaller and smaller like a wilted flower in a windowless box, plant me deep in the warm soil and let me rise arms open wide breathing free beyond confines. Let my song rise like a prayer. Let me live in the open air.
Where Beauty Grows is an uplifting poetry book written during the COVID-19 pandemic, designed to bring hope and relief for the weary soul.
Beautiful photographs and poems gently open the eyes and the heart to the healing power of beauty in nature, delivering relief, reassurance, and hope.
Nature lovers and fans of inspirational poetry are sure to enjoy this lovely gift book.
Available in Paperback and Kindle Edition at Amazon.com
Summer rolls out her red carpet of heat, glamour abandoned. Sweat shimmers on beautiful foreheads, makeup melting like wax from a candle warmed by the flame. The masks of theatrics peel off like wet band-aids, exposing old wounds to summer's hot rays... rays of healing releasing fountains of feeling. Do not be afraid to embrace the beauty of summer's sheerness, unadorned by red lipstick, unchained to the camera, unconcerned with numbers on a scale. The cover-up is no longer required. All are welcomed. All are accepted. We are incandescent. Summer casts her smile upon us and whispers on the breeze, "Perfect as is."
Morning shrouds herself in a soft haze, blurring the line between earth and sky. The sun hides behind a gauzy veil, silhouette visible like a glow-ball on the dimmest setting. Mysteries hover above the dewy fields... could be fairy wings or fallen stars or the breath of angels passing by. My heart is lifted by the morning mysteries, reminding me that each day is perfect in itself.
It is hard to find our place in the world. It is only through the lens of time that clarity is honed. But the years take something from us too. So there is never a place in time where we live in a perfect world. And that is not a bad thing. Perfection is over rated.
You suddenly blew in with a thunderous wind just as the blossoms were starting to bloom, just as the darkness was giving me room to breathe and to feel the absence of gloom, here you come again with your icy wind that closes me inside and makes me want to hide where no one can get in. But look, I see the days expand and lengthen long, oh, yes, I hear the birds they sing a springlike song. Your blustery winds are fading away, the sun with its warmth is coming to play, one of these days Spring is coming to say, "Welcome! I am here."
I don't carry a totem in my pocket but I have a secret place hidden in my heart that grounds me tethers me to reality gives me strength for the journey reminds me I am not alone in this even though I am alone in my own skin. Beneath the shadow of God's wing there is a place of stillness a place of Presence a place of knowing a place of being a place where no enemy can withstand a place where I return to come back to myself.
I saw a black bird today, soaring into the heavens with not a single flap of wing heart wide open, riding the currents the breath of God blowing him high high higher black wingspan stretched across deep blue oh, to ride the sky effortless weightless free how would that be?
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