Belighted i Be

It may be a silly rule,
none-the-less,
the law against
picking poppies
makes me want one
all the more.

We should have been taught
as with butterfly wings
the word Love
should not be handled
without recognizing
the salt of our fingertips
inhibits flight.

And where the suns rays
first find a full beam,
a red tailed hawk
screams
in delight
for the day
is coming
and he will feast.

Seeming forever
fields of wildflowers
Spring in every nook,
gently coloring to the corners
and reminding us
that pollen, like Love
exudes itself
as every living thing
under the sun
became belighted

to break free
from the salt of the earth

despite the inevitable
returning,

Our seeds are always being
sewn.

Graciously greening

Grateful grew
a waterfall-
when it seemed
dry
the stream had fallen into
a lull
a bye and by chance
a babbling brook broke the silence,
the banks exhaled
a warm chill
mist its forests
and swelling by providing
encurrentment
to every atomic bead
aligned inside sealed springs
to thaw and draw
themselves
forth
by means of appreciation
to rise in a flood
of movement
for no means other than
most simply Being
drawn willfully to the sea
of Eternity,
a wash in tranquility
when the thirst
for refreshment
all but evaporated.
This atmosphere
was everything we needed
to thrive.


Painting by Marcus Larson c. 1856 in [Public domain].

Fond

Pink of dawn,
the rosy day
positioned itself
precisely between
love and light.

As day breaks into
warm undulating prisms
through angular concentration,
you may find
yellow
swirls through blue,

Let it grow

as Indigo
will remain underneath
and eternally holding stars in a place
we have said is filled
with dark matter
but it felt lighter
to some
and held-

ever so gently.

Painting by Alfred Heaton Cooper, c. 1905, titled "Dawn, Coniston" in [Public domain].

wait less ness

It bothered me
    so much looking down
                   noticing the tangled web
of weeds and picturing the worms
when
I felt a finger
             lift my chin
Up
     to the words
     floating
Up there
      across the tops
                 blooms and light spread
freely
as they have all ways
been
not needing to be
seen

Up here.

Image of floating leaf taken in the Superior National Forest, photographer Unknown in [Public domain].

soft-ness

It was not evident
at first
how special it was
to Be
good.

I said soft
and meant
landing.

The cats saw
around me
and fixated themselves
under each of my most careful
footfalls,
short of floating
they weave comfortably
vibrating.

The hummingbird
held himself back
from resting
atop my crown,
settling instead
for a golden thread,
with a tip
of nectar.

I reached inside
my treasure box
and felt
enjoyment
in my collection
and it was greater
than my own

goodness gracious
to hold on to softly.



Photo credited by Francisco Enríquez, 2001 [Public domain].

a lone path way

some thing stirs
out there
with out us
with in
we name hope
hanging on
be came
pulling up
our gaze
only then
some thing
in finite
may be
seen.


Photo credited by Carol M. Highsmith, Santa Catalina Island, 2012 in [Public domain].

Leave it at That

"I am That, Thou Art That"

There will be
many
that ask how it came
to Be

So
I will answer
Yes,
it seems
Impossible
to Be
born
questioning

yet we Are


Image credited by Fré Sonneveld fresonneveld [CC0].