How far?
A glance, an inch, a mile, a light year,
A bridge, a wall,
beyond horizon, a touch,
Eyes closed,
Here.
How far?
A glance, an inch, a mile, a light year,
A bridge, a wall,
beyond horizon, a touch,
Eyes closed,
Here.
My mom taught me forgiveness: smile more, smile heals hurting hearts. Push yourself more to forget. Then some more. Don’t think the unthinkables. Include everyone, even the ones who exclude your part. Give them what they want. Say yes often. Continue reading “A strange place”
See how the green smiled at the morning,
green, that happy thing, Continue reading “Spring”
Under my bare feet
raindrops, mud, then
first green grass.
Have you even been
touched by love? Continue reading “May”
Narrate me another story
Erase memories like
how they wipe mist
from the petals Continue reading “The heart knows what it knows”
“How quick and rushing life can sometimes seem, when at the same time it’s so slow and sweet and everlasting.” ― Tomorrow
In my side of the world, spring passes quickly. If I haven’t been out with my camera for two weeks, I find trees in floral. If I don’t see those trees for another week, the trees hide themselves in light green leaves. And then in another week, there are so green that suddenly the world looks summery. Continue reading “Bougainvillea”
“The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day.” ― The Cat in the Hat
I close my window and the rain goes dead,
I raise the curtain and it’s back again.
Drops are on the blurry windowpane,
and on the green bed of spring
where a yellow dot is blooming blatantly.
I close my window and the rain goes dead. Continue reading “Rain in March”
After a rainy winter, the hills are green now. Another walk in the woods truly reminds me of one of Mary Oliver’s poems. Continue reading “When I am among the trees”