relaxing
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She walks by night
By daylight and Twilight
Step silent across gravel roads cobble streets
The girl in the flannel skirt
She doesn't eat or drink or sleep
She simply breathes
To my nose she was a stick of incense.
Filling me whole, her eyes.
The ashes fell,
Spacing her walk.
With smoke closely trailing.
The sun quickly set.
There's no where in the world I'd rather be.
Will this madness ever subside,
Really am not so sure.
Many a times I've tried to relax,
Only to whack the living room door.
Really need to get some sleep,
What is it I need to do?
Each and every snowflake is different from the others.
There is something calming about standing outside and watching the snowfall.
Bright
Sunny
Clean
Runny
It can be blinding, or it can be mellow.
The sun’s blissful, golden, daisy flower yellow.
When I am feeling down, I close my eyes.
Breathe in, breathe out.
My bare feet cling to the mat as I stretch, hoping to remain still as to avoid exercise, but I push on.
Upward cat, downward dog.
Sometimes, life can feel a little slow
A lot of people are only worried about one thing. Dough.
Sometimes this makes you happy
But more times than not, it makes you snappy.
I, however, like to focus on my life
Trekking to the world's edge
With a good sister and friend
To see what lies around corner,
To peek around the sandy bend.
Ambling in the stretch
Where earth and water are one,
On the back porch looking out of the screen
There is beauty that is before my eyes, with
The green hills that span miles and miles.
A Southern Delicacy
Feeling the warmth spread throughout your body,
and the peace that flows quick after,
the love that overwhelms your chest,
Bring me the sunset in a cup
so I can drink it in.
So it can saturate
my darkened body
with warmth.
So beauty can fight the ugly
in me.
Wherever I am,
As long as I’m out,
Over the blue waters I go
To catch some trout.
But never after a full moon.
That’s when they have their feasts.
With the moonlight shining over the water,
TO FISH OR NOT TO FISH?
That is the question…
Every redneck as himself on Saturday morning when its not,
I repeat;
Because this is important.
It cannot be hunting season.
That will trump everything.
The rain dropsnot from the clouds,but from the Heavens above.They drip from the treetopsand drop from each branchand nestle into leaves,glisten on webs woven tight fromspiders at night,
A hug in a cup,
The steam rises,
Soothes my soul,
Calms my fears which never leave
As I hope for tomorrow,
My lips at the brim,
The warmth rushes and hydrates,
Replenishing the comfort,
Warm scents fill the air
Fall is here, thanksgiving is near
But first kids dress up and play
And in search of candy, hunt the night away
The leaves are falling and the air is sweet
Lounging on a park bench, thinking back to my childhood days,
I’m reminded of myself and my playful ways.
Facetious, amused, lacking the demand for major decisions,
Every feeling and moment hard to envision.
