Colors of February

Length of Stay

Length of Stay

There is no more boredom or uneven walk on the hiking trail
No more mere acorns and colored pebbles from the riverbed
A new day of catastrophe’s widening reach
Wearing a mask wherever one goes
Suspicion of catching the virus when traveling, talking with friends and strangers
Living in narrow corridors
A suffocating feeling, counting the hours
Waiting when the end come?
With fear of being left alone and contagious

Today I walk to the river
There is a pink breasted bird flying from one branch to another, from one tree to another tree
Tweeting and communicating in a high pitch bird talk
I see a fisherman attending to his line
The fish has not touched any of his baits
But living is not all about intensity and patience
Not all about uncertainties and business hours
Life is also about the every day simplicity: corn on the cob and opening an umbrella during the rain,
A good book, kind thoughts, and Beethoven
And kissing you goodnight.

Awe

You try to frame your beginnings and journey

Demolishing and picking up the ruins

Planting roots, building a ladder with vision of a summit,

A tapestry of new colors and threads

Then you see a swan rising from the waters

The white wings spreading wide as if without effort

The awe encompasses all you have learned

Simple, precise and complete

Forever transforming your soul.

Share this:

Today, Saturday, I walked in the afternoon. It was cool 63 degrees. I brought my camera to take photos of the birds I see during my walk to the river. I know the blue heron and the red wing blackbird but I don’t know the other birds.

Books I am reading:

The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas merton

Mastering the Art of French Eating by Ann Mah

A Beautiful Question by Frank Wilczek

Color of the Day

Saturday morning, crispy cool, I joined other Waterways Keepers volunteers and cleaned up the Riverside Park along Napa River.

I found these yellow wild flowers growing along the riverbank.

The Distraction

The Distraction

The days pass like rain falling between your fingers

You are unaware the mountain’s summit disappears, river dries up

You worry yourself about deadlines and profits

Perception narrows, words evaporate between us

The time passes the definitive, irreversible point

Your distraction is being too focused

Like a robot whose full devotion is to vacuum the living room.

At The River

At The River

The lines are cast

The fish are not biting

A fisherman wonders why

I don’t know

From a distance in the walking path

Two walkers are approaching

Ask them the question when they arrive.

The base of a tree is surrounded by stones

The other trees are not.

It’s winter even in a tiny vineyard

Meantime I’m walking back home

I’m thinking what I will have for lunch

Will xfinity know?

 

What are you doing?

Watching Oscar Awards can be exhilarating

You can celebrate with winners

I’m having steamed crab for dinner.

Attention

She sits on the sand

listening to the sound of the sea

There are a few people on the beach

Some are waiting for the sunset

She waits for the green flash.

A loud sound of a car crashing distract her thoughts

Like tiny fevers that affect the carpenter’ mind

Sounds of hammering, falling nails, slip of a saw

She runs to the road, a car

Smashed against a tree

She opens the car door quickly

Pulls the driver out, bleeding, moaning

Assessed the situation quickly, calls 911

Still shaken after the ambulance leaves

She returns and looks at the ocean again

And see not just darkness that veils the horizon

She sees farther, lines of light, 

Bright as her thought

Or she sees clearly what’s in front of her

She still misses or only glances

For things with deeper meaning

How fragile is time and beauty

Simple thread, as we are,in the tapestry of the universe.

We may not even be able to say goodbye.