Cursory Way

708D2DA1-2224-4469-BD40-E883663D8C6BI have a mountain of books to read

Books are scattered everywhere in the house

I will call and ask you where to start reading

The garage is full of non-essentials

My hours need occupants

On most days I walk in the neighborhood.

Now is the time that I should go deeper in my learning

Not my usual ordinary way to please myself.

It’s sad to realize it takes a pandemic to wake me up.

Time is emptying like food on the shelves.

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Farther than before

I walked farther today than the previous days: three miles. I crossed Napa River on an elevated  bridge and connected to the river trail, to the downtown then returned home on another street.

It was 65 degrees, sunny with a cool breeze. I met along the way other walkers and cyclists.  We all practiced the safe distancing. There colorful flowers and plants and art.

I stopped a lot to take photos.

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Where are you?

The fresh thought of wanting

The eagerness of eating an ice cream cone

Hastens arrival of summer

As if it can be done by magical gestures

I’m thinking of supernatural, the miraculous.

I will fold my hands

And sit still,  in silence.

 

There are those extraordinary hours

When you feel the approach of the beautiful

The moments when imagination is at its sharpest

When you see only clarity

Awe can be incomprehensible.

The ice cream is melting

The buds remain buried under the snow

I’m running very fast to catch reality

And tie it down.

Where are you?

Fresh approach

After correction of errors, a shift in imagination

The weight lifted lighten the wings for wider spaces

The stories written with new desire for understanding

Seeing and describing reality.

The moments of waiting before the unfolding

Is utter loneliness.

The objects of desire are well illustrated

Ushered in the open air.

We forget defeats, remember victories

The painful ones, the hardest ones

Written in the bones, carried in the tears

We smile and say, why not.

The art of fresh approach, act of integration

The next story of enchantment we will write

As if we are thinking of immortality

We are offering our homage and gratitude.

Search and Work

Search and work

Search the depths of your life experience

for revelations of the sacred

Maybe they are ordinary

Maybe they are unnoticed

God is always working for us to find him

Is he beyond my comprehension?

I have to observe silence and be attentive.

With my human frailty I have to work harder

Not only in prayer but in faith

Selfishness and pride in spiritual ventures of disguises

Are difficult to discard without grace.

It’s a feast to plant and to harvest

With divine help.

At the end of day

I wipe sweat on my forehead

Thanking the Lord for the work done.

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.

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

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8E5397D0-B672-47FF-B507-0F5BFDB8A7D5At 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?

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