Before

Links in a chain

Of daisies or dandelions

A privilege of childhood

Before daisies are just flowers

And dandelions are weeds

“One of the first conditions of happiness is that 

the link between Man and Nature shall not be broken.”

~ Leo Tolstoy

A Word Game

My words seem to have dashed away! 

Important or frivolous words gone! instead of jousting and playing with crossed swords of meaning and purpose. 

Importance too often wins over frivolity 

Frivolity smeared liberally between the heavy bricks of importance

builds something worth the time of day or week and month and year. 

Bricks of importance and privilege 

plus 

the mortar of frivolity with its own sort of privilege 

builds a whimsical house with 

a curvy sloped roof and a funny top hat chimney

puffing out smoke when the fire of passion is hot. 

There is only one leader of a country, 

one C.E.O. of an organization and 

    one famous author of each string of books

but 

a host of us ordinary folk 

living ordinary lives with 

little glitz or glamour

    make the world go ‘round 

        for the Really Important People 

    while doing frivolous things like 

     playing games with our children and going for ice cream.

We are :

Really Important Frivolous People

“The beginning of wisdom is the definition of terms.”

~ Socrates

Gifted

Where we are

What we are doing

Who we are

Our stories unfold ~

stories ordinary and plain

seem faded and worn ~

rather like late summer land 

when the drying colours

seem to blend into one brown. 

Look closely ~

shaded gold to deepest browns 

splash sudden brilliance from

late summer goldenrods scattered

all along the path of experience

pockets of mauve wildflowers nestled

in the dips and curves of life.

Where we are is a singular privilege.

What we have done is our story.

Who we are is our greatest gift.

“I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it 

I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.”

~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

Once More

Joy - a staple for my life like

    salt on potatoes

      spicy heat in an enchilada

         sun on green growing things

A too crowded cupboard 

   pushes joy to the back

     hides it from my senses

       buries it beneath fallen spice jars

Clearing the cupboard of my soul

   Joy is set right up front again

     Face forward to my senses

         Lifted up once more

“The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. 

If you are attentive, you will see it.”

~ Thich Nhat Hanh, Peace is Every Step:

The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life

Forget Me Not

Long shadows at the beach

sea weed swirls and tickles.

Soft warm sand ……….

I forgot my plastic pail and shovel!

“Beware of missing chances; otherwise 

it may be altogether too late some day.

~ Franz Liszt

Bright

Stepping out

into a cool August morning

crisp green beans crunch, 

marigolds smile brightly 

Stepping into

the warmth of my home

readying for Monday morning 

belief smiles brightly 

“We are what we believe we are!”

~ C.S.Lewis

Consciousness Streams

Drifting with words

concentrating only 

on sound or sight until a phrase that wants to unravel itself, spills words on the page like baubles from a broken necklace. 

It has been up to me 

to pick them up one by one,

setting aside those that belong 

to another bit of jewelry until 

they all string together on 

the thread of my thoughts.

Finding a clasp that joins them lets me breathe deeply 

   this one more day when I wrote 

      one more wordy bit of creativity

set for myself with only frames of time and space

to focus and craft a thought 

drifting past my mind’s eye 

in fancy dress or somber colours

always finding a place

 of hope or 

     maybe of joy 

        or maybe of perspective 

          or maybe of gratitude. 

flowing freely from my heart. 

Crafting my words define a place 

  not dogmatic, 

     pragmatic or 

        automatic and

not spitting out what might sound

right to someone else. 

Someone else will see them 

    in a different light, 

      from a different slant and 

         through the different lens 

of their experience 

My words will even be read

in all of those ways ~

a difference of form than 

my heart has sent out to this world of 

  men, 

    women and 

       children 

who know only their own lives 

for what they were, are and could be. 

Many streams of consciousness that make up 

     the voices of many

        put to the words of one.

“Hundreds of butterflies flitted in and out of sight like 

short-lived punctuation marks in a stream of consciousness 

without beginning or end.”

~ Haruki Murakami