Whispers of Lakota Song

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Perhaps it was the Lakota Song drifting over him, whispering in the middle of the night, when he was a child, a sound of singing,

blessing his dreams, from the tall grass…..that soul filling call, to touch the clouds, whispering in his ear, in his heart, the core of who he was.

He could always write the river, so maybe that’s why he was born loving the colors of our earth, with prayer feathers,

and wild horses running strong. It was poetry, after all.

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: I was born in the desert, not far from the Rocky Mountains.

We were too far south though, to hear the Lakota Song.

Into the Rain

20180930_123817I’m dusting off my leather bound journal, finding my favorite pen, and I’ve put together a small stack of poetry books,

on the kitchen table, including one called, Hope in the Morning……and later a walk into the rain, down by the lake,

if it’s not too cold. I love how rain drops fall, on the water singing their own special music.

Right now though it’s time for some cheesy eggs and toast, dipping in my tea bag into a steaming cup

making English Breakfast tea. I love these rainy mornings……

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but been taking one day a week to recharge. I work alot

so I find it essential, and maybe we were made this way, but I didn’t pick a particular day, it just kind of happened.

So on late Friday afternoons until sometime on Saturday I’ll disappear, but only a little. I have preplanned a couple of posts.

Thank you so much for reading!

Peace.

      

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies.

Up on the Ridge

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When I went up on the ridge that day I had my raincoat on, the one with the hood,

and checked for my mask in the ziploc. Seeking my rock, my thinking rock, my prayer

and meditation rock, there was comfort when I found it and I sat down silently, even in the rain

I could sense the quiet of the forest. I closed my eyes and quieted my spirit…..realizing I didn’t need to find some new deep revelation,

or write a poem producing lightning on a page, some awe inspiring lines, one poem

out doing another, until the lines faded. That was all nonsense. I could just be who I was,

and write quietly of healing and nature, and peace. Praying on a rock up high, sitting in the rain.

     

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

How it All Began

20190427_101241He was just 17 when he first started searching for his spirit, deep in the cool darkness of the woods.

With light streaming occasionally, he always found the shadows of wings in the stillness,

not quite a ghost. And water falling through rocks brought calm, balm for his soul,

until a crow bursted with noise, offended by his presence. He could sit for hours on the large rock,

by the rope swing, especially in winter listening to the silence of the snowfall….

that’s really how it all began. Soon he would study the tribes, including the Lakota and Cheyenne.

     

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

My 3rd Biggest Blogging Secret

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Life is an adventure! And one of the best ways to express the love and beauty of this adventure, is through photographs.

I almost always use my own photographs and this is another blogging secret of mine. I love photography!

I have a great number of photos and it saves me a HUGE amount of time, to plant one into a post rather than searching

the internet. I use to search for photos and it took me forever to find the right one! So no more.

And sometimes I’ll write a poem, and already be thinking about the photograph to plug in.

If you missed my first 2 blogging secrets, the first was to invest in other bloggers and their sites.

It takes work but it’s well worth it! And #2 was to be hopeful and encouraging!

By the way I need a new camera, so if you have any suggestions, let me know.

Have a great time blogging!

          

Writing and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

On the Third Day

20191019_103711I was in prayer on the third day having been summoned by the mountain,

I began to climb the steep path but it was nothing but rocks and pitfalls, so battered and bruised

I hurried, realizing we needed to defeat the crows, keep them from filling the pine trees,

so bluejays could build their nests……and spring would come to us this year……finally and at last.

               

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: The term third day here, means the third day of the week, which is Tuesday. This is fiction.