some days...

some
days
are
narrow,
shut
in,
dark...








                                                                  Some days are expansive, wide, and brightly sunlit.

                                                                                                     but the best days are with you...

Ice

This is
winter:
ice,
frozen,
in place,
waiting.

A Stick

I pick up a stick along my way
and snap it in two
a splintery break
a dry, sharp cracking

not building a fire
I toss the two pieces
into the brush
hiding my deed from myself
and others

I am man
I pick up and throw
sticks and stones
to prove that
I can

For the Rest of My Life, I Will Live

I told my wife, Jean, that I intend to live while I am alive, for as long as I live.  To live!  To live, I will love!  I will love Jean, my family, and all those who need a brother.  To live, I will write!  I will write every day!  To live, I will experience and learn!  I will learn by reading, doing, building, gardening, and traveling.  To live, I will find beauty, awe, and wonder in the cosmos, the world, and in life!

In my "low" moments, I find that things are not what I want them to be, and that disappoints me.  I then remind myself that everything is exactly what they are, what they have been, and possibly what they will be; but maybe I can do something about what they will be.  Maybe I can build or create things a bit more to my liking.  I'll work on that!


"Dear old world, you are lovely, and I'm glad to be alive in you." Lucy M. Montgomery

Thoughts While Looking at Sagebrush and Grasses

I am
an artist.
I paint
with words,
I collect
sunlight,
then
let it flow
from
my heart
into my pen.
I paint
with words,
letters
and
syllables.

To the Edge

I walked to the edge of the asphalt,
to the edge of our civilization,
and the edge of the natural and wild.
I stood at the line between us
and all that we build and do,
and what they create and do
just by living wild and free.
I believe I am domesticated.
I am amazed at the cosmos,
the sky above me
the geography and biology;
but they could leave the gate open
and I still will not wander away.
I will not explore space,
fly into the clouds,
climb the mountains,
wander into the forest,
nor dive into the dark oceans.
I will stay in my garden,
pulling weeds,
with the gate wide open.

Which Way?

I pause again,

not knowing which way to go.

Both are within my power,

both are promising,

but neither feel perfectly fit to me.

If I choose one,

I lose the other,

and my life will be so defined.

How long will I be here

at this crossroad?

Move on,

I tell myself,

Move on.

(Echoes of Robert Frost)