Writing with the Winter Wind

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I haven’t decided yet if I’m still a river, but in the winter I do seek to write, filled with the winter wind,

with a touch of sparkle glinting off the snow. I reach in, and out at the same time with at least a partial measure of spirit, or try to.

I find writing from the spirit to be more honest, shaping words from what we cannot see. Connecting.

I love writing, so thank you for reading my posts!

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Sunset of December

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I was up high in the sunset of December

with shadows of tree limbs covering

and hawk wings flying over,

giving me a wild feeling untamed

yet I turned back to the valley

having surrendered, with dreams

of a hot cup of tea,

and My Love cooking

some spicy noodles.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: Sometimes small things are more beautiful.

The Zen Teacher

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I was listening to NPR (National Public Radio) one day and the guest being interviewed was a Zen Buddhist teacher.

She is also African American and gay. I do enjoy much of the wisdom and philosophy of Buddhism even though I’m not Buddhist.

And this teacher said some things that registered with me. Such as overcoming suffering by an internal change,

by sitting and quieting our spirits, and by love, understanding who we are in the space we’ve been given.

And the change needs to be collective to impact our world.

In my younger days of being a super conservative person of faith, I would have condemned this teacher

and never even listened to her simply because of who she is, but instead I learned some things that day.

My point is we need to listen to people, accept our differences and learn from one another.

Diversity brings growth.

Amen.

     

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: The teacher is Angel Kyodo Williams

In the Space Between

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In the space between light and darkness,

as the dawn begins breaking,

there are times we don’t feel the privilege of a new day,

and we still smell the smoke,

or taste the cinder ash

of our dying hearts,

may we always remember

may we hold onto that light

that promises a new day,

always.

      

Note: This is about overcoming sadness.

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies