Call me corny. Seasonal shifts make me poetic. It seems the more I look around the more grateful I am. I'm mighty lucky to have two ample windows that face the back courtyard. At these windows is where I scratch my noggin and do real thinkin.
On that note I've begun a series of "Love Notes" to the number one gal in my life, 'Ma Nature. So for those searchin for a sonnet, here's a little piece dedicated to my feathered friends...because they make getting up each morning a real pleasure.
Thank you treasured friends.
On that note I've begun a series of "Love Notes" to the number one gal in my life, 'Ma Nature. So for those searchin for a sonnet, here's a little piece dedicated to my feathered friends...because they make getting up each morning a real pleasure.
Thank you treasured friends.
Thank you for your song. Your voice.
Your delicate grace.
Your delicate grace.
Your charm. Strong and reassuring. Like angels in the treetops. Out of indigo heavens.
In a reckless world, your joyful melody stalls and stills these
brittle nerves. Host to a cacophony of concerns. They are caressed and quieted. And for a moment, put to sleep.
Like droplets falling on a still pond.
Like droplets falling on a still pond.
Bliss returns.