An Interlude

Glowing

naked in the garden,

one into the other

its colours slipped –

yellow into white, 

green into the yellow.

And toying too

within that airspace, 

the contours of a shadow,

coming in and out of focus,

depending on the nature

of the light cast

in the long drawl

of a single minute's 

quiet strength.

Meanwhile –

the heart flutters,

staying there,

staying put.

Catch Me If You Can

INNOCENCE

I am innocence

Staring up at you with a bashful smile

Biting my lower lip

As a curl twists around my finger

Will you kiss me?

I am anxious and eager

You bend

For your mouth to meet mine

I jump up and run

Laughing joyously, hair flying

Bare Toes

Prancing across open fields

Clouds drift slowly overhead

Enveloped in the afternoon sky

Myriad sun sprinkles caress my skin

And you begin the chase

Catch me if you can

– Shelley Langstaff

Of Silence And Locution

Beyond All Measure

Above there's a fascinating immensity

unreachable with the mind –

within that great light we must rally…

. . . . .

O solitude of longing
Where love has been confined
Come healing of the body
Come healing of the mind

– Leonard Cohen

An Old Kitchen Table

And it is his words, his voice that make 

such an extraordinary impression…

. . . . .

KITCHEN TABLE

The same useless thoughts arise

but no one claims them —

Loneliness seizes the frame

and shakes away hope 

but no one is hopeless

no one is lonely —

The intricate preparations

for the next moment

direct you

to read this now — 

Surrendered to the One

who placed me here

I sit at the very table

where these songs began
some forty years ago — 

busy as a bee

in the solitude


– Leonard Cohen

Hearing Their Stories

their fundamental optimism and decency. 

I'm inspired by the love people have for their children. 

And I'm inspired by my own children, how full they make my heart. 

They make me want to work to make the world a little bit better. 

And they make me want to be a better man.

– Barack Obama

In This Little Open Space

Because Of You

…

On a mild evening in France sated by the beauty of the countryside, visions of the future – but a dream, emanating from somewhere within gave cause for a reason to sing…

As The Day Arose

A dandelion's shadow
conceived by the sun
flaring up at that hour…

Listen To The Crickets

And you hear them chirping at offbeat rates.

Both sails up and open – the top of one running

along the teeth at the bottom of the other.

Kindness In Thinking

Kindness in giving creates love.

– Lao Tzu

. . . . .

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing

inside,

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and

purchase bread,

only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

– Naomi Shihab Nye

The Object In The Framework

A window – a sense of silence
in behind its casing…

Just Before The Sun Slipped

Speak To Me

of each of their examples which are doubtlessly essential

in establishing an affective unity with a life apperceived,

engaged in the sweet glow of such deep-seated intimacy.

The Piano

At This Or Any Other Point In Time

A Trace Of Light

Open Air

Retreating Into Darkness

My heart sings of your longing for me, 

and my thoughts climb down to marvel at your mercy. 

I do not fear as you gather up my days. 

Your name is the sweetness of time, 

and you carry me close into the night, speaking consolations, 

drawing down lights from the sky, 

s a y i n g, 

See how the night has no terrors for one who remembers the name.

– Leonard Cohen

The Reflective Space Of Play

A chalky delicate exposé.

. . . . .

T   I   M   E   is a game 

PLAYed beautifully by children.

– Heraclitus

Momentum Is A Rare Gift

When the creative impulse 

sweeps over you, 

grab it. 

You grab it 

and honor it 

and use it, 

because momentum

is a rare gift.

– Justina Chen

. . . . .

And half of learning to play is learning what not to play 

and she's learning the spaces she leaves have their own things to say

and she's trying to sing just enough so that the air around her moves 

and make music like mercy that gives what it is and has nothing to prove…

– Ani DiFranco

. . . . .

With time pressing in all around
something was mounting inside her –
with patience she nudged her self onward…