Sometimes my brain
feels overcrowded.
Like, there’s not enough space
for all my thoughts to process.
Then one word emerges
from the muck.
Spaciousness.
My busy thoughts pause-
It does exist.
Spaciousness.
Between the time you were born
and the person you’ve become.
Between the first dark cloud
of a storm and the last drop of rain.
Between each breath I take,
as I slow down to watch
clouds gracefully float past.
Tag: nature
Simply Sunday
Have you ever noticed
how certain clouds
appear so put together?
Smooth and round,
every particle in place.
Gleaming against their
bright, blue background.
Gliding gracefully
through the day.
And then there are the others.
Honestly, I think they
outnumber the first.
Frazzled, edges a little rough.
Looks like they survived
a tornado or hurricane.
Typically draws a second look.
Color is the same, as is
their current backdrop.
Particles are the same, only shifted.
Perhaps they need a
gentle breeze, accompanied
by a genuine smile.
That is, if clouds
respond to smiles.
A Walk
Last week, I took a walk.
Everyone around me
was running.
In this instance, the results
would be the same.
I suppose that’s what
happens when you get
caught, unprepared,
in a rainstorm.
The thing is, I knew
the rain was approaching.
I knew there was no umbrella
hiding in my backseat.
And still, I chose to
ignore the warning.
Not always a wise choice,
but this time it was warranted.
Last week, I took a walk.
Drenched from head
to toe, I laughed.
My soul felt lighter.
Then the rain stopped.
Effortless
Gigi, look at the sky!
I always seem to be
looking at the sky.
Had my granddaughter noticed?
Either way, the reminder
brought a fresh curiosity.
What did her eyes see when
looking at the sky?
I knew she noticed airplanes.
I’d watched her eyes
respond to hearing one
even before it flew into view.
Then watched as she
waved, asking it to come back.
Listening, looking, responding-
Is it that effortless? I think so.
Gig, look at the sky!
A flood of wisdom in
the simplest reminder
from the tiniest voice.
It’s a Stretch
Rushing out the door,
I noticed my sweet, silly cat
stretched out like a pile of
pulled-apart cotton balls.
Driving to work,
I saw a once fluffy cloud
rolled out across the blue sky.
Reminded me of my cat.
Perhaps I need to unroll, stretch.
Not just my body, but also
my head and my heart.
Remaining too long
curled in a fetal position,
Though somewhat comforting,
is counterproductive.
Touch my toes.
Reach my hands skyward.
Lie flat on my back, eyes closed.
Smile or cry, whichever is needed.
Smile and cry at the same time.
That’s my favorite.
Ask for forgiveness.
Say I’m sorry.
Say I love you.
Slow down and stretch.
Interesting Companions
We walk down the sidewalk.
Our shadows lead the way.
This time, we walk with our shoes on.
Not my preference,
But the cement is hot
from the midday sun.
It would surely burn
your little feet.
Strange, how your shadow
makes you look older-
Mine only makes me look taller.
Interesting companions, our shadows.
They seem to listen as you chatter.
Your sweet voice echoes against
the neighbor’s fence.
Do you see your shadow? I ask.
But you keep walking
and chattering and laughing.
Oh, to be innocent again,
paying no attention to those shadows.
Your only concern?
Walking, chattering, and laughing
in the bright summer sun.
Feathers
Yes, I am aware.
Some details are missing.
Try to see the bigger picture.
That sounds logical, at first.
As if acceptance makes it easier
to continue down my path.
But then I notice the
smallest of wonders.
From the edges of a nest,
straw is poking out where two wooden
beams are nailed together.
A mother bird is sitting quietly on her eggs.
Seeing the big picture is impossible
without consistently returning
to the small moments.
The fuzzy head of a nestling
is barely seen from the ground.
The nest is crowded with fledglings
almost ready to fly.
Each tiny step in nature, somehow,
a reflection of my life.
I don’t want to miss even the tiniest feather.
Simply Sunday
After Careful Consideration…
I study the image, moving
past flashy first impressions
to the combination of
smooth surfaces and fine lines.
Flecks of light reflecting
from the deepest crevices.
Curious about what events
heightened these characteristics.
Both the expected natural
occurrences and
the unavoidable extremes.
Relief in a cool breeze.
Peace glistening in the snow.
Heartbreak felt in a flash flood.
A grief-induced drought.
Passion flowing from a waterfall.
It’s curious how the
careful consideration
of an unusual pillar of rock,
sitting peacefully
in the middle of rushing water,
gently nudged me to consider my reflection more carefully.
Powerful Peace
The sound of water
rushing over rocks-
A demonstration of power.
An offering of peace.
Where does one end?
Where does the other begin?
What is the source?
Is it the water? The wind?
What about the rocks?
Unmoving, they tolerate
the rushing water.
Over time, the water smoothes
their rough edges.
And the wind? It freely carries
their story of transformation.
Listen. Can you hear their song?
A message of determination, finding
Peace in the middle of chaos.
Can you hear your story in theirs?
Riverfront Park-Spokane, Washington 💙
Where am I?
Above or below, a scene unfolds.
Questions are a necessity.
Are those white frothy peaks
On wind-tossed waters?
Is that a tundra covered in snow?
Are those mountains in the distance?
Or simply a bank of storm clouds?
I see them from below almost every day.
Viewing from above offers new perspectives.
It requires engineering and mechanics.
Logic combined with wonder and awe.
Below, I stand firmly on the ground.
Above, I fly, unsure of my place.
Above or below, a scene unfolds.
Questions are a necessity.
Somewhere over the PNW. 💙🤍✈️
Piano Girl 