If my thoughts of you could write themselves into a book of poems, like a Shakespearean play, captured and preserved for all eternity,so that when the world weighed me down;when humanity inflicted its woes upon me,
All I’d need to do is open my book,and find you within my grasp.
“A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know watching her, that you know almost nothing.”
Mary Oliver
“Dog Songs”
For the love of the Earth,
she dug deeper.
For the love of the Stars,
she reached higher.
For the love of the Trees,
she went out on a limb.
For the love of the Wind,
she was carried away.
Consider the lilies,
their beauty and
their impermanence;
Their lack of competition;
Their stunning diversity.
Let’s imagine a world with
fewer thrones and
more flowers.
📷 Ian Sanderson
My ancestors were wolves. Wild and wary. Sometimes running in packs, other times, howling their loneliness to the moon.
These ancient urges still surge inside me, but disappear once I remember that my master has a sofa.
Where were we on that day,
That day the sky fell,
Fell to the ground,
When the ground shattered?
I was with you,
With you, we fell together,
Together into the rubble
And out of the rubble, we rose,
Together.
📷 Donna Levinstone
@vermontgmg
@atrupar
Following the three wednesdays....Insurrection, Impeachment, Inauguration. Hoping by next Wednesday we will see the cumulative effects of Integrity, Inspiration and Illumination going forth.
”I guess things were always quiet around Putnam County. Kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the 2-lane that stretched out like an asphalt dance floor…”
Tom Waits
How I wish my garden
were yours.
I’d wake each day to
watch you wandering
along my curved paths
and mounds of lavender.
You’d bury your senses deep
into my rich soil to
seek refuge there.
I’d trust you to tend to
my garden, because I would
have given it only to you.
I was ten when she died.
My grandmother, bent and tiny
in her gray cotton dress and white apron and cap.
That day the farm dazzled with
corn, wheat and zinnias.
My parents whispering.
And I alone on the
cherry tree swing
moving from light
into shadow.
Balanchine, the famous choreographer, trained his cat to perform brilliant jetés and tours en l’air, saying, “at last I have a body worth choreographing for”.
Happy
#Caturday
!!