Four geese flew low
preparing for the long flight south
it is always comforting to hear
that soft ruffle of their wings
then I know that a part of nature
is blood and bone as are we ~
traversing life on the silent wings of
ancestors, family and friends.
“You are born to fly, and in dreams you remember the soul has wings.”
~ Robert Moss, Australian historian
After a thunderstorm
rain leaves behind only
the steady beat of
drip, drip from the eaves
When a heart breaks
sadness slips over eyelids
in silence.
“It is such a secret place, the land of tears.”
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery, writer
(1900 - 1944)
When I sit down to write
it is seldom in the same place.
Each time of day has
it’s own nook.
As long as there is
pen and paper,
or, as in this missive,
my laptop, my fingers poised,
I am ready to write.
When I sit down to write,
my thoughts are jumbled
or there may be a spot
on the wall that reminds me
of some bit of philosophy,
or maybe a blank white page
~ silent and patient.
So I doodle,
or read
a bit of poetry,
a novel
or whatever is near at hand
Along the way,
some fanciful thought
floats across the page
when I sit down to write.
“Your intuition knows what to write so get out of the way.”
~ Ray Bradbury
