it is too hot for the fire pit.
the anole sits at the edges
warming herself on the memories of burning embers.
or the echoes of the sun’s kisses.
we are all candles to each other’s flames.
it is too hot for the fire pit.
the anole sits at the edges
warming herself on the memories of burning embers.
or the echoes of the sun’s kisses.
we are all candles to each other’s flames.
life may be a bed of roses,
but my pillows always full of pets!
but who wants to bed down with the thorns!
This bug’s me.
if All is One,
and You are me,
it is ok
for it to be
time for you to flea.
and it is fair to say,
that i no longer wish to play with that which bugs me.
there is no use crying over spilt milk.
or ink.
who knows what is creative curiosity can bring,
let joy and blessings spill forth!
a cat greets me, hiding in the shadow of the porch roof of the studio,
reminding me that You are in the shadows as well as the light.
and so am i.
Soaring down the highways,
Winged messengers loop above,
As dogs in crates gently snore.
The journey continues.
Every step to heaven,
Is heaven…or so says Catherine,
But what if the way is blocked by weeds and biting stings?
Oh, Honey,
Stand still for just a moment, and you will see,
Each Step
Is
Heaven,
Smell the sweetness,
Ask to pass the gates with gratitude,
And you will find those steps of hell are turned to joy.
Unstung,
Yet kissed by the sun,
The bees sing me home.