colors of my Saturday





note: Today is the Cycle4Sight & Rotary Ride for Veterans, an annual cycling event in Napa Valley, California to raise funds for the Pathway Home, a place for veterans from Iraq & Afghanistan who have PTSD and the Enchanted Hills Camp for the Blind. The cycling distances are 50 miles, 25 miles and 15 miles of beautiful roads and hills. The roads are surrounded by vineyards. Today is gorgeous, sunny, clear day.

We were monitoring the safety at the intersections.


distant bells

Clear and universal, sounds
of distant bells, admonitions
don’t fall off a cliff
while carrying your guitar
pain may be unbearable
you may lose your voice, music
you may prefer to bundle your emotions
or carry them separately
listen to bears, discern
hidden traps, quicksand
stop now and then under a shady tree
mountain tops are steeped climb
get excited like the bees
visit meadows, picnic spread,
you may try to thrive on crumbs
get plenty of photos, have a hearty laugh,
laughter will carry you to all the continents,
the remotest corners of joy.


note: photo courtesy of Mrs. Abstract.

present moment

“…total absorption and complete absorption in the present moment is available to us all when we choose to let gratitude wash over us uninhibitedly.”
-M. J. Ryan, Attitudes of Gratitude



note: photos taken from the bank of Napa River where I passed by during my walk. It’s low tide.Today is cloudy and 65 degrees. My iPhone says I walked10,900 steps.

simply juxtaposition

walking is forever
never obsolete
riding a bicycle



not to be forgotten
a desire to climb
or dance



others address a cloudy sky,
line a sidewalk
or turn to what we can not know


or simply sit, read or write
a juxtaposition, silence and music,
poetry can change everything.

note: This April marks the 20th anniversary of National Poetry Month.


O, wisteria, fragrant wisteria
purple fading, petals falling
hummingbirds, sadly, pass by

I, too, change each day
silent life’s daily grind
“God does not know how to be absent.”


note: I’m reading Into the Silent Land, A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation by Martin Laird where the quotation comes from.