Mother and Her Nature and Beauty

What beauty can be…

a lone mushroom

a barren tree

or some ragged weeds.

Mother and her nature do not judge my scars…

skinned lines that carried me so far.

Nor am I aware of discretions while I scamper towards her majesty.

….

I can stammer my words of poetry

often erratic

often loose like a noose.

Yet, Mother and her nature…decide my needs.

Wide Open Spaces

Wide open spaces, looking at the trace of distant faces.

I sit in wait for moments to awaken.

Lonely, as I confront myself to be…

on a warmed summer’s bench.

There is only mystery.

Counting numbers, enlisting letters…

listening more than I think…

in wide open spaces.

Down with the Dawg!

It’s taken me awhile to learn that if I’m gonna offer the gift of my being, it means offering the fullness of the moment we are in!

What’s changed now is that much more of the time, I mean I’m a long way from being cooked, but much more of the time, when I am ‘here,’ this is it, I am here, and when I’m not here, I’m not here. It’s interesting how when you give another human being, your family, or your business, the fullness of your being at any moment, a little is enough; while when you give them half of it, because you’re time binding with your mind, there’s never enough. You begin to hear the secret, that being fully in the present moment is the greatest gift you can give to each situation. #Ram Dass

A Question for Nature

I wonder what nature sees of me…when pretending not to be?

Does she see me as a threat to her luminosity?

Do the robins nest further up a shady pine?

Is my manner of awe and unsure footing a hindrance to her placating design?

As my oar settles into her complacently, mysterious, waters…does she sense that my intentions…are unkind?

One foot after another, I go back to her response.

The whistle through broken limbs and the frigteningly, gothic music that descends.

If there be admiration, it is one sided.

In nature’s woods…it is just pretend.