Running With the Wind

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More than a subtle healing, autumn

has a way

of simply

taking our breath away,

strengthening our spirits

to run with the wind.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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Yet Within Our Scars

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Lying and fear often make difficult lovers

and even worse neighbors,

preferring themselves instead

of another,

so we pull back

our tenderness don’t we?

At least until we feel safe

again we pretend not to care.

Yet within our scars

builds a determination

or something

vaguely seeming to be hope,

so we press forward again,

straight into the wind

and then

we go vote.

Note: Please remember to vote on November 6th. We need to each do our part to help stop the madness, and strife. 

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Warm Hearts on Cold Nights

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Hey y’all this is a quick update from the front lines of my wife fighting cancer (for the second time).

Many of you have been asking about her, thank you! We are so wonderfully blessed by your prayers, blessings, well wishes, and positive thoughts!

She has finished the first round of treatments, and the mass in her chest (inside at the rib cage not on her chest) has become smaller! Yay!

That’s the good news. But something is still there, and only a special scan will tell us if there is still cancer.

We have to wait though because the treatments she received are still working to fight this menace.

So how do we stay very much in love with such a big challenge? To be honest it’s easy, but we do make more of an effort to be with each other. After all, in many ways love is a choice.

We talk a lot more, about everything. And sometimes we hold each other and don’t say anything at all.

Our hearts are warm on cold nights.

Just being in the moment and being together has become more valuable than ever.

My wife and I could probably write a book on love over 50, and in overcoming health issues. But that would be another post, and probably another website all together. 🙂

Thank you again! We wish you peace.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Acadia

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The fog hovered low that evening as he stood silently in the sand listening to the waves. The rhythm washing every scar of the day

until he needed to zip up his jacket a little higher. Rocks made smoothe though. He relit his pipe, and as he walked home he watched the sand

surround his boots and give way again and again. He pulled his hat down further due the chill, and he thought of the lamps he left on in his cottage,

and quilts hanging over chairs, and a steaming, hot cup of tea.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies