Fresh air and a bright blue sky, with just a few thin white clouds arranging and rearranging themselves, all as if there were no fires in the West, or, for that matter, no trouble, land or sea, anywhere in the world. Out of this there comes the loud scolding voice of a crow in close pursuit of a smaller hawk, the birds matching speeds high above the treetops and rapidly changing directions — and then, silence — they are out of view — in time to see a white butterfly as it flutters past the tips of the lacy green maple to visit the dahlias, while bees taste the clover around and about my warm bare toes.
July 16, 2021
Ocean, Boat, Sail
Ocean, boat, sail — love what you love,
and love what you do not love — sink with grace
or float — choose not — where you are least,
love is most — love is love’s result.
Recently Banned Literature, January 13, 2015
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