It escapes me

I’m looking at the white heron
stepping daintily on the muddy riverbank at low tide
I’m thinking what I want to write today
The thought escapes and now a fugitive
To search between coherence and acceptance,
silence is not easy, formlessness can’t remain.
The pendulum will swing back
carrying some words stitched together
one half haphazardly, the other half arranged like a quilt.

I’m between thoughts
being ahead or being behind has no meaning when one is not hurrying,
still, we want to reach the finish line.

Finding you and continue our dialogue
can be exhausting though you are buoyant
I want to share your optimism.fullsizeoutput_29dd

Itineraries

At first her thoughts are trapped
Then freed like a leaf from eddying currents
Thankful, it is summer, after the vacationers leave
She does not know where she will be going.

Young boys loiter in supermarkets
They are not sure what they are doing
Window shopping, people watching is their enriching
Adventure, color of freedom, trivial maybe,

She thinks when pigs escape from a corral
There is no call for immediate search
The farmer knows they will find their way back.
She knows the enchantments of a farm.

The week is long, can be stretched even longer
All the time to plan the itineraries.