I'll be with you in a moment

We don't give ourselves

enough credit

for adapting

but praise our 

Evolution

as the golden thumb.

There is a sweet spot-

contentment that tastes like

honey 

when we master

something that was once

difficult.

Habit tastes more like salt. 

It feels good after sweating,

It feels awful when we are bloated.

Choices make us,

luck chooses who and when. 

Accounting is great when 

all of your checks 

balance.

Art should make us feel

there is no right answer.

Sometimes we feel deeply spiritual-

other times we know we are truly animal.

Yet

everybody knows

everything changes.

And after all the full moons

maybe learning to not scratch

every itch

is Joy deserved instead of 

Pleasure served. -

Artwork by Thomas Hovenden (1840-1895) 'Still life with roses and fan', CC0, via Wikimedia Commons in Public Domain. 

Fence-lines

The grey fence
leans sleepishly against the morning fog
that lay dew upon the field
which will turn into pixie dust
as the plain rolls into the suns warm gaze.

Before the birds
muster a lilt to try;
the sound of swimming
between tidal flows of atmosphere
immersed, they listen to the mist.

A dappled doe blinks its black eyes
rapidly twitching its ears
seeking the source of the crunch
by the hare munching greens for breakfast,
whose nose twitches up
at the white whir of a hurried wind

chalking up the slate of new day.
A heavy scream shatters the stillness
as the birds scatter in spider cracks
folded inside, the echo
doesn't bother coming back.

What was here
always moving on.



Photograph by © Dietmar Rabich, rabich.de [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0), CC BY-SA 3.0 de (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/de/deed.en) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.