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

Turning the Pages

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As isolation, and a cold rain batter against our windows

threatening take to take our spring away,

threatening our joy

we know our victory

is not far away,

so redeeming the time

we pick up our paper and pen,

turning the pages,

finishing another chapter,

telling the story,

no one else can tell.

    

Have you written today?

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, 2020, ancient skies

Somewhere in the Wind

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Even in the cold grey dawn, poets will often search

the shoreline, looking for a glimpse of wordflow, in the silence listening

releasing any bitterness to receive it as a soft rain begins washing their spirits,

stunned here and there, at the beauty of a simple phrase……or a line.

And somewhere in the wind…..there’s a story.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies