A daydream within a dream

Cry the Languid

Sometimes, I wonder too much…if I wonder too much.  Live life within a dream.  Or, at least, a daydream.  

How lucky am I?  To look up, as well as, down.

As if my grievance with nature is that of anxious inspiration.

As if these walks were cheap snippets of temptation.

“You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.”
Edgar Allan Poe

In…Mother’s Nature, she keeps me

she keeps me 2

 

In Mother’s Nature…

She keeps me gentle

She keeps me sapient

She keeps me legitimate

She keeps me with timeless testsshe keeps me 3

She keeps me with flesh

She keeps me with dignity

She keeps me shady

She keeps me with chemistry

She keeps me with fragile, breakable reverie

She keeps me

She keeps me

she keeps me 4

…a most indulgent mother, has placed her best gifts out in the open, like air, water and the earth itself; vain and unprofitable things she has hidden away in remote places.
##Thomas More

 

 

Ragged Mountain Byway

This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life

Dining in the Moment

I stood there over open water

It had been beautiful, all at once…then not at all

Freckles of milk weed rustle with my flannel

It had been beautiful, all at once…then not at all

I sat near a Shaker table waiting for New Hampshire autumn to wine and dine

It had been beautiful. all at once…then not at all

Leaves of Brown

To think of it as anything more…would be absurd.

Justified gifts bestowed upon the earth.

Pungent, musky, society, woven into the fabric of our lives.

Tantalizing temples of shades and hues.

A touch of the silky skin.

Wintered petals.

Disgraced leaves.

Simple mid-season delicacies…Nothing more… than it needs to be.