My mind lies fallow.
Words catch
in the stubble
of autumn’s harvest.
The blank page
blows onto the river.
It too (the river that is)
is being pushed,
its only defense
to rise up with clenched fists
white-knuckled,
punching the black water.
The choice:
stand still or outrun the wind.
"Reflection is the liturgy of this landscape." Terry Tempest Williams
Posts
Just in Case
This blog was created to give my family and friends a bird's eye view of the journey I am on. If you read something that resonates with you and you'd like to plaster it on your refrigerator, bathroom mirror, cubicle wall or share it with someone you love, I am honored. If you read something that resonates with you and you pass it off as your own...shame on you.
Most everything on this blog was created from my heart and mind. If I share other writers' work, their name is credited.
Take good care and enjoy the gift of today.
Most everything on this blog was created from my heart and mind. If I share other writers' work, their name is credited.
Take good care and enjoy the gift of today.
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