Still Points: Listening to a child at play and looking to relax in the new day. Enjoying a friend's smile, walking along a quiet path while waiting on the peace still-points engraft. Overcome by the awe of this breathtaking sight, pondering only its beauty and not whether it is wrong or right. Loosed for a moment of all the thoughts that huddle within, still-points consume to give one clarity to begin. Breaking borders and mending fences of another kind. Mountain trails seem unsurpassed, creating the ability to stand fast.

The Clocks Running: I see a chicken coop from another time, a mystery to be held, and a place of quiet time. Surrounding it, a country field, beyond it the woods, and not far from it, a house of brick (now sealed) full of loving memories. Blackberries, apple trees, and three little lambs come into focus then. And with all this I see, I need memories such as these.

 

The Quest: Venturing along a crowded beach and escaping to a trail within, the trees and the brush got so thick I could not see to begin. And yet somehow, you found the way to my heart. You never missed a trick. Walking through the mud, running along the crest after the flood, moving closer in, you were a friend from the start. You stood with me through the pain, when I thought there would be no more rainbows or blue skies just continued rain.

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The Right Connection: When the bathwater runs over, and the boss is looking over your shoulder. When the income drops and the alarm clock stops. When the body’s in pain, and in your heart, there is too much rain. When the emotions are high, and you don't think you can cry. When all you have worked for has gone to seed.

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Tide Pooling: Starfish mussels, a snail or two, washing up in these simple tide pools. Bright in color and separate from the rest. Sand crabs, hermit crabs, both green and maroon; purple-blue mussels and periwinkles too. All mixed up together in these simple tide pools. Walking the beach has become a love affair, that becomes a magical tool.

 

To Be Free: To be free as a butterfly, not as a colorless moth. To be light as a feather, floating through a summer day, unlike a bull in a china cabinet demanding its own way. How I long to be free as a river of melted snow, always moving on, and seeking to grow. Not as a rock around my loved one's neck or a chain to bind them at every bend. How I long to be free.

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Walk-On: A walk through the rainforest could be fun. Or maybe we could take a ride on a river raft, at the end of this run. A walk along the ocean shore could chase away the blues. Or maybe a walk in the mountains would be enjoyable too. But the walk that is more precious is the one that is open to loving you.

 

With Eyes of a Child: In the eyes of a child, I see such love. Reminding me, again, that they are a gift sent from above. In the laughter of little ones, I find such joy, watching them grow our busy little girls and boys. And even in their tears, I see their heart to be 'held secure,' with a tenderness that will not depart. I see, and I observe theirs is a world of creative art.

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Yesterdays Rhyme: Remembering what I wrote then, I see pages of unsaved rhymes, poems, and verses that touched my circle of love. Thoughts and emotions I did not think much of, and yet they were tools to understand: and sort out what others see. Rhymes of my very nature or so I thought.

I see the words of what I felt then all now a blur. Oh, how I wish I could recapture them a second time. Just like childhood slipped away, but then maybe it’s meant to be that way.

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copyright 1991 and beyond