In the dead of night I ponder
all my stones of awkward weight
Mentally skipping them oâr the water
of my mind’s achromatic lake.
Casting stones of dreams and wishes
skimming hopes and fears obscure
Tossing far across the tide line
stones Iâve gathered on the shore.
Sweet release I feel unburdened
As they sink down into the calm arcane
Yesterdayâs stones are now a memory
I stoop and gather an untouched day .
Šď¸vcl
If at the end of the day
If there was a magical way,Â
That clouds could suck up the fear,
All pain, bloodshed, the tears,
Angry words people say
And carry it on red wings of wind
Beyond the abyss of time
Never to return again
We would celebrate cloudy days.
Photo:Evening Sky~Šď¸Val Letkeman
Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.    Â
Nathaniel Hawthorne
I was working in my garden today (actually I was playing) Â when I noticed this butterfly alight on a leaf near me. It looked so pretty, sunlight bouncing off its wings that I stooped in for a closer look and a picture to show others. Truthfully it made me feel happy. How could that be? It wasnât doing anything special. Â But itâs very existence was special to me. Butterflies speak of peace and good will. They speak of change, rebirth and happy endings. Â I had one of those mindful moments. Questions fluttered through my mind.
What has this little butterfly seen of the world in its journeys? Does it think about how important it is to the flowers as it flutters along , pollinating the natural kingdom? I picture it singing a happy tune, and even though itâs life is short I doubt Iâd hear a mumbling word of complaint. What would that song sound like? Does it know itâs creator? Could it lead me there? Â Or do butterflies just soar? Â Some questions donât get answered do they? I weave these thoughts, coccooned around my heart as the butterfly flies away.
The day has been long. Night has drawn its shuttered eyes, and I will do likewise. But before I go I leave you with this little Cinquain to ponderâ¤ď¸ VclŠď¸
  Butterfly
  Tissue white, graceful
   Chasing the wind, laughing
    Happy little thing
   Wings
I make things complicated for myself and chaotic, so I feel unsettled, and then the challenge is to make something structured and complete emerge from that.
â¤ď¸Jessica Stockholder
I am packing for a trip. A short jaunt. But packing unsettles me. Do I really need 3 pairs of shoes? What if it rains? Where are my sunglasses?….and the beat goes on, la dee dah. Experience has shown that I overpack. If Iâm not careful I will let my joy get stolen. And the ransom may be  more than I want to pay.
So Iâve taken a breather. My packing will be complete. It always does. I  am writing a poem to celebrate my freedom from packing blues, spilling chaotic thoughts, into a summer night wind thatâs reflecting summerâs heat. â¤ď¸
As the wind
my mind is wafting
in and out
of conscious thought
whirling in a sea
of mysteries
Stirring up what
they aught not
Breathing in
unsettling whispers
knocking down
old barriers worn
Ancient beliefs
toppled
scattered
scorned
anticipating
wintry storms
mulling
oâr what really matters
life
       Unsettled as the wind.   vclŠď¸
“The Louvre is a good book to consult, but it must only be an intermediary. The real and immense study that must be taken up is the manifold picture of nature.” – Paul Cezanne
I was perusing old photos today and amongst the pile, this one kinda stood out. There is an old saying by Osho that sums up my thoughts.. He says….
I was mindful. I didnât pick it up with my hands. I did snap a picture though and take it home with me. Â I now can pick up this flower whenever I choose and it still gives me joy. The same joy that I felt when I first saw it. See the lush tones? The pinks and greens, each petal and flower a masterpiece? The open invitation to smell its nectar? If only it was scratch and sniff…if only to share with you dear reader…for my memory can conjure its perfume even now. Â đśIâve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart …where? …down in my heart to stay. Â đś
Saudade, the melancholia remains
after someone is gone.
Causing a sonorous emptiness,
melding emotions that overflow,
Ever mindful of your voice,
your smile,
Your warm embrace.
I long for what cannot be.
Yet am content in what was.
We celebrated our 45th Wedding  Anniversary yesterday.
With ice cream. Hot fudge brownie sundaes. Two of them.
We joke as usual, we arenât ready to share, yet.
But we bought the same flavour. Perhaps thatâs the secret of 45 years and beyond.
âAll that is not eternal is eternally out of date.â
â C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
I thank God for ice cream â¤ď¸
Today was St Patrick’s Day, so we celebrated the wee bit O’ the Irish on my side of the family. A Tip O’ the hat to the Garvin kin!
Garvin  Name Meaning~ Irish: reduced Anglicized form of Gaelic Ă GairbhĂnâdescendant of GairbhĂnâ, a personal name derived from a diminutive of garbh âroughâ, âcruel fateâ.
Lunch was a delight..little potatoes smothered in Salsa verde, green salads and succulent slabs of corned beef and cabbage rolls. When we thought we could eat no more, Â out came the fresh applesauce cake with green whipping cream and lucky coins….mmmmmm. My guess is that if St. Paddy ate like this he was probably quite rotund lol.
We celebrated with a poem called a Limerick, also an Irish tradition.
Limericks are one of the most fun and well-known poetic forms. No one knows for sure where the name âlimerickâ comes from, but most people assume it is related to the county of Limerick, in Ireland. They are short, rhyming, funny, and have a bouncy rhythm that makes them easy to memorize. My Grandson Ethan Hallex wrote this Limerick. Hat’s off to him too!
A Man Named Delete.
There once was a man named Delete
His name he would have to repeat
He liked to play Lego
With his pal Eggo
Which was his favorite to eat.
I wonder if Eggo was green? Hope your day was a fun as ours đ
~anonymus
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