Moving.

Moving
Through the dark.
Moving.
Through the tests, meetings, lectures, assessments, hoops.
Moving
Through relationships. Friendships.
Moving. On to better things?
Wishing I had the strength of feathered wings.
That there weren’t so many strings
It seems that the sweetness never sings
And the sourness always stings.

a new perspective from 30, 000 ft...

Tonight.
The last black dot on white
The ending paragraph to voices, places, space
This is the last punctuation mark.
The fading of a flickering spark.
Behind. Remind. A different kind.
This is space for the new-ness to begin.
The lighting of a new spark
A new color other than black on white…..
And a chance to make things right.
Tonight.

The cloudy days are full of sun.

Why is it that the cloudy and rainy days bring some of the sunniest rays?
Why is it that I look for goodness only when the sun shines?
And why do I expect gloom during the rainy times?
Why is the sweetness of time, unlocked under cloudy skys?

Dirt under my nails

For the last few days I have been working it out in my garden. Let’s be honest it’s a very modest piece of the earth, but somehow to me it means the world. The plants, the weeds, and most of all the dirt speak to my soul. The order and disorder, or maybe the simplicity – is fantastic.