poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
In the heat of summer, the lake often calls to artists and dreamers
in the coolness of water,
and the explosion of green.
And sometimes…. even prayers
are sculpted,
given shape, given light,
flowing through our hearts and escaping.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Whispers in the mist, surrendering to the rain,
as the wind gently plays with the leaves
I suddenly remember
a younger thunder
when you and I listened
to those sounds, that story
only told by summer.
So young we were back then,
yet we do
still hold hands.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Summer sun and sunscreen, yelling into the air,
“I cannot put this book down…..she escaped again!”
washing the sand off my feet, means
I’ll be back again….
Well I didn’t exactly do a good job of taking a summer break, now did I? There were several reasons, one of which is my wife and I got sick (nothing major).
So our time at the beach was cut short. We have been taking a break though, spending time together.
I’ve read two novels so far, and I’m on my third. I had forgotten how much I loved a good action, sci-fi adventure!
And the book I was yelling about in the poem? The Rook, by Daniel O’Malley, which crosses a number of genres. It’s a sci-fi, paranormal, mystery, spy adventure. I do recommend it.
P.S. I’m still taking it easy. Have a great summer!
Peace.
Poetry, Additional Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Ghosts shimmer in the shifting shadows
of the summer fog,
lamenting of losing their former glory
seeking to escape……
the absence of flesh or at least
to explain their plight
to a willing writer, walking
in the woods unafraid.
If you stand perfectly still……
they will sense
your heartbeat.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
In the wildflowers and green, summer can speak strength to us,
enabling us to let go of the struggle,
turning, and accepting the peace
living within.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Butterflies dance in the forest, discovering the leaves
while the buzzing from a honey bee flies over,
but it’s the deer that discovers me first,
expecting her to run,
I whisper blessings,
with her heart at peace again
she bends down to feed.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Wet sand under our feet, as we walk a few more minutes along our beach
wind caressing our faces, and for some reason My Love
the seagulls object to our hand holding,
our salty kisses
as we surround ourselves
in the waves.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Note: We haven’t been to the beach yet this year. We are still hoping to.
