Bad laws are the worst sort of tyranny.~Edmund Burke
It’s 66, the grass a brilliant green,
the mulch freshly applied, house-showing clean. These lists gripping to-do intensity. Flood warning mirrors sheer immensity
inside out. I ground in the dark vastness
before dawn. Morning practice steadfastness. Remember to breathe. Seething in fervent need: fresh air, big sky, lake-side observant.
The years of sickness forged humility.
Honoring my vessel, tranquility essential. Every boundary ingrained through chaos, snark, dissonance’s disdain.
Each change invisible. I look the same.
Healing under the surface, no acclaim. Now I stand strong watching the world aflame as tyrants ravage health, a cruel game.
Inspired by: Fervent, Vessel, Gripping, Forge and the OctPoWriMo Day 7 theme Balance/Sweet Spot.
Written for every person I know who has received a jab and is now experiencing a totally coincidental health decline.
Featured photo: A great egret flashed white in the murky morning.
If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.~Joseph Campbell
Poised in the liminal dark as nowness
permeates my dream-mist, I see how this planet goes. I ogle eagles plunging sky to lake, master dimensions lunging
strong and fierce–on my breaks from the daughter
tasks my heart insists transpierce my oughtas. Each simple step reveals and can’t be missed presenting like a veritable kiss
feels like a fist so I comply. What dies
is resistance to the flow. With new eyes intentional trajectory aims high below the murky surface, serene, dives.
Inspired by: Ogle, Mist, Veritable and the OctPoWriMo day 6 prompts: intention, design, dream, purpose.
Featured images: Above, an eagle fishing under an improbable sky. Below, the dive.
Weaving her spinnerets she float-descends
on gossamer threads in a straight line, ends table-side. I raise my cup, try to blend like this poised heron fishing by the bend.
We three: spider, bird, human sink beneath
the fracas of manmade reality that makes us quash true knowledge to survive. Respect this morning seals the web of life.
Inspired by Quash, Spider, Seal and Fracas.
Featured Image: During , my Little Miss Muffet adventure at breakfast this great egret patiently fished.
There was never a night or a problem that could defeat sunrise or hope.~Bernard Williams
Dawn thrusts rosy fingers across the vast
entices my cold feet through dew-kissed grass. I’m spinning in the primordial light each moment’s change, a gasp. Heron’s flight
westward, painter of watery hued sky
reminds me I must let emotions fly. Undone by yesterday’s grief, as I fell into the well of sadness for a spell
this bright hope pulls me into a new day.
My father rubs his forehead, bows to pray. Look up! I bring him photos: brilliant lake suffused fleeting radiance quells heartbreak.
Inspired by: Forehead, Vast, Watery and Primordial.
Featured image: This morning’s sunrise was spectacular and fleeting. This heron flew over.
“In order to see birds it is necessary to become part of the silence.”~Robert Lynd
Far away his wise counsel laser keen
reveals the roots that constant drama screens. I sit by lake and ground in dawn, attend a patient great blue heron who can blend
as racing gray of this cloudscape conceals
the blue I’m always searching for. The wheel of fortune turns. I bleed with each riposte surrounded by the haunted, for their ghost
I love. The unmarked minefield of fresh grief
is marked by feathered messengers who see my need. The spectacle earthward glides clear. Mourning dove lands. The tears are ever near.
Inspired by: Attend, Cloudscape, Spectacle, Riposte and the written in the Stream of Consciousness Saturday rules with the prompt near/far.
Featured image: This morning’s constantly changing cloudscape.
The wake of vultures glides innoxious, one
by one. The cold snapped the glass doors closed. Spun into waiting, subdued. Death knell obtrudes. Déjà vu. Signs lamp-bright in morning dew.
This time my wisdom spurs rejection. Closed
mouth, I listen. The abjection exposed is immune to reflection. A lecture is no cure for dying’s architecture.
A black harbinger chimney-perched surveys.
Message imparted, moon-strong, swoops away. Eagle slow-wings, hawk cries, intensity hones. Heartache receives death’s immensity.
Lecture, Lamp and Innoxious.
Featured image: Just a few of the many avian spirit messengers this morning. Even as I write this, the plovers are ke-dee-ing, hawks are skreeing, in an otherwise eerie silence (since the porch doors are firmly closed against the brrr cold).
There is no excuse for indifference and cowardice when it comes down to one’s own life and freedom. There is no excuse at all!~ Gary D. Barnett
The equinox 22 advice–be strong
have faith–arrives with a string of fives, long day ahead in gray chill with miracles if you believe angelic oracles
I use the tools that appear. The field’s clear
responsive when I wake or dream. Here society’s vestiges seem like ghosts. Their messages haunt the wealthy whose boasts
fade now they shun lethal boutiques where
air–somehow transformed, can harbor hosts vile carriers. They shudder in dissonance blasting blame outward, find no resonance.
Unanchored, numb, they drift upon my shore.
I offer empathy, compassion’s door open even when inevitably they focus all their shame and dread on me.
I walk the sovereign path, now sparkling,
know that I’m an electric being. Grounded and tuning with each breath, I stand in my integrity hold out my hand.
Inspired by: Boutique, Lethal, Sparkling, Vestige, the fall equinox, and a weather forecast of 55 all day long.
Featured image: An eagle fishing just off “my” shore. How I’ll miss this treasured lake life!
While crows sleep, I search dark cloud-covered skies
obscuring moon, full and bursting, devise schemes to pare down, live minimalistic. A killdeer in distress spirals, mystic
plover calls. Ancient lyrics fall on ears
stuffed with sounds duplicitous feeding fears society subsists on. Making lists while sunrise hints and plays with blue-shade mists
I’ve lost the rhyme; I’m trying to stay true
to love’s most simple path. Aim high. Askew impulse-driven males precipitously begin panicked flight uncritically.
I’m grounding, watch my family run by
making wild choices. It’s their time to fly. At last the lightening sky, overcast grim bearers of gloom threatening amassed
the day forebodes with muted calls to wake
and treasure even this intense heartache. Hummingbirds voracious in fall’s chill, sip before starting their migratory trip.
Inspired by: Duplicitous, Crow and Subsist.
The black bamboozle box lurks foreboding
leaps to his voice to flood the cabin-zing hey google, dissipate the peace, release the latest fear, please don’t hesitate, seize
reality; I can’t create today
too frightened by the scenes shown yesterday. He’s hypnotized. He cannot reach the ground. Past constructs spinning, holding him unsound.
Our paths deviated when the earth showed
common sense beats electronic mirth-mode that keeps anxiety on high alert and energy’s sweet currency diverts.
Inspired by: Bamboozle, Foreboding, Cabin and Dissipate.
Featured image: What we create today seeds in ways we cannot fathom.
The medicine is already within the pain and suffering. You just have to look deeply and quietly. Then you realize it has been there the whole time. ~Thomas Hubl
Before dawn my evolutionary
stance requires I feel all the hurt buried alive. Pain molecules from cold storage thaw in the healing light. Hungry, forage
through my sensibilities. Agony
even when expected–I opened wounds cannily–thwarts my intentional tunes like some ribald cat-calling ancestor
who got off scot-free, leaving the high cost
with interest to me. Wake, dreaming goddess in bare feet, indigenous to earth, ground and release. Raw transfiguration frees.
Inspired by: Thwart, Indigenous, Scot-free and Ribald.
Featured image: Lake reflects illusions, reminds me to question my interpretations.