Losing the Child

Every moment intense
With joy or discomfort.
The infant knows
Of nothing else.

Life as a child
Simple and unencumbered
Brims with adventure.
Here
Exhaustion is of excitement.

No need for bells and whistles
Nor ribbons or tassels.
Play and repeat play
Is the perfect ticket.

So what happens in all the growth?

We practice and perfect.
Becoming masters,
No longer enamored.
We call these milestones.

With crownings and honors
For drone like behavior,
These achievements a demand
Conforming to institutional norms.

With passage of time
Fatigue and age,
Perhaps we no longer
Jump, skips or dance.

Lost in this mud
Is the pure spirit of child,
The glee, the radiance,
The essence of life.

Without your childhood roots
Exist you would not,
So let the energy of old
Climb back into your bones.

Maybe then the ‘adventure’
Will not be lost,
Allowing your rise
To claim,
With the heart of a child
The aim,
To play again
In this great game of life.

Feathered

Having followed the trail,
A feather here
A feather there
Your faith has been inspired.

Soft and supple
Drifting and floating,
Eagerly you found them
Each one never too far.

They have lead the way
To new horizons,
Even helped to surrender,
Letting go of what no longer served you.

But perhaps all along
Another message lay deeper
For as you held each feather
Slowly you made your own wings.

With your searching
Tracking
Trailing,
You have now been found.

It seems to me
It is Crystal clear,
That you my dear
Are your very own angel.

So now, with each step you take
You need not look any further,
For you are the way
And the destination too.

For my friend Crystal, her feathers and faith.

Mothered

Birthing Mothers
Your place, no one can take.
Nature’s way
To guarantee unconditional love.

Sisters older, younger
Dotingly, grudgingly both,
Never miss a beat
To watch your back.

Daughters, nieces
Adopted girls,
You spark a love
Of pure adoration and awe!

Cousins, aunts, grandmothers
All partake
To share the special times
Uniquely ours.

Incidental crossings
By mentors, colleagues
Acquaintances, even strangers
Can leave those single memories and gems.

Last but not least
The girlfriend, the bestie.

You mother my soul,
For with you
I can rest and play
Cry and laugh.

For in life
We will always long
For the safety and nuturing
Of being Mothered.

Above photo curtesy of Pintrest, found by Jeanne, my friend.

Birds Eye Privilege

 

From Wright to Ron
Discoveries to adventures
The two legged man
Makes his way to flight

With science and courage
Precision to check marks
Buckles and headphones
We were set to go

Engines splutter to roll
Thrill engaged
Moving forward
Seamlessly to flight

Ascending the rise
City sights pass by
Then Central Valley food carpet
Spreads and sprawls wide

Ranges, aqueducts
Mineral pools and more
“Rita” gives life
To my very own birds eye

Sheets of cloud
Ominous at first
Like Bermuda Triangle
Stories and tales!

Control tower guides
Securing the passage
Skirting the dangers
The pilot’s my hero

If first flight
Was not thrill enough
On return, sunset to dusk
Entrance me again

Partnering the sky
Traveling side by side
The horizon waves good-bye
To the passing of my day

Hues of pink scattered in blue
Then creamed orange to zestful blaze
With last moments left
Golden yellow takes stage

Majestic rise to bow
From both the sun and my heart
For here heaven meets earth
With the breath and blessing of God

Thanks to Ron,
And Rita, his bird
And to Laurie,
For friendship, fun
And so much more!

Resonance 1

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Flow of flutes
Beat of drums
Glide of strings

Instruments played
Notes to melodies
Melodies to harmonies

Moving towards me
Ears not only
But my pores

Hear the feeling
Of ancient times
With divine perseverance

We blend
Boundary lost
Vibrating as one

Am I the music?
Is the music in me?

In this space
Unquestioned freedom
Peace

Gently resides
Inviting me
In

Held
Rested
P’haps even saved

Bringing
Flow, rhythm
Resonance

To my being
Being alive
Being here