Musing

The failed experiment will not be a singular experience

could be wide with ramifications

is it unusual to have unhappiness early in life

and to have fullness of life later?

Sighting an uncommon bird

will be peculiar day.

a point of celebration.

The jellyfish dance,

glitter in the night

Walking in Festival of Lights

December Twenty Six

at sunrise

a bird leaves

its perch

a tree painted blue

a wind chime hangs from a branch

a bird sings from faraway

a mother looks at her child

imagines colors of her voice

the sun recedes behind the mountains

she adjusts the aperture

takes all the photos

a long story begins

yesterday

a snowstorm

a child was born

Attentiveness

Can the flowers hear

Do butterflies whisper their wishes

I’m alone walking along a forest path

My hair shines in the sun

You can follow me

Wherever you are

I pace my steps

Aware of watchful eyes

I’m reluctant to stray from the path

The mountain may shake

Obliterate my awareness

Dictionary may not suffice

The majesty in scarcity

Can elevate my expectations

Tomorrow I will start early

Inaugurate a new attentiveness.

note: It’s invigorating to be able to walk to the river again. I met a lot of walkers walking their dogs or their friend’s dogs. The air is clear and the sky is blue. Simple things.

Choice

The leaves were changing colors.

Today on my third day 

of walking after the fall

I reached the river.

I saw a blue heron, maybe

a younger one, feathers paler blue

Bending down to tighten my shoe laces

I found a penny next to my shoe

I felt richer.

Is it a journal or diary

or just doodling?

Both need writing

and thought.

and  repetitions.

Fall and afterwards

Since my fall about 4 weeks ago I have not walked to the river until today. I walked halfway, easing my way slowly.

I felt good.

Yukka and palm trees shadow the sun

Thorns and leaves abound

Life.

Books I am reading:

Middlemarch by George Eliot

(with my Book Club)

Coming to Our Senses by Jon Kabat-Zinn

The Past

There was once a place

Where the mountain breaks the softness of sunrise

Where fishermen sing while tending their nets

Where I grew up,

The narrow streets and old houses play in my sleep

People meander and talk at sunset

On Saturdays a farmer’s market

Filled with animated visitors.

I miss the place.

The past is part of the present

I will understand happiness 

Depends on differences of small things

Will make sense later

I am fit not from running

But from gardening

I want you to come with me

And visit this place

You are a good listener.

The future 

Can be full of chatter.

I become too familiar

With the world around 

There are possibilities

We can laugh together.

Walking

your eye catches 

light’s reflection on a spider web

a hammock hanging between 

a tree and fence

neurons interlaced to strengthen memory

a bridge for retrieval and deep learning

atoms, stars, horrors 

of war, how to be a shepherd

the interlacing of flowers, 

spices and herbs in a garden

flowers complementing appearances

and passion

plants to engender savory taste and texture

a simple life prepared a table of elegance

you resume walking

each step echoes

music of Beethoven, imaginative spark of 

Virginia Wolff’s stream of consciousness

to express  an exhilarating day.

The Fall

Walking to the river

I met many women walkers today

in twos, in threes

walking a dog,

walking a stroller

walking with a walker

I heard conversations 

words I could not understand

I passed by an adult retirement home

glanced at people playing bocce

The sun was higher now

almost home

In crossing a street

my shoe stubbed the edge,

Like a lightning, I hydroplaned

on a concrete walkway, 

For a moment I could not believe

it happened

large bruises on my knees, 

palms of my hand

my stick laying in front of me, 

my eyeglasses, intact

my bones, none were broken

A car stopped,

a lady driver got out, offered  

to help me. I thanked her

I stood up on my own.

I arrived home to attend 

to my wounds.

I was full of gratitude.

An extraordinary day

Can you see the blackbird?

The books I am currently reading: Middlemarch by George Eliot and The Artist’s Journey by Marcia Shaver.