Sunday, March 23, 2014


Perhaps the world looks bluer from blue eyes, in the same way that it is easier to spot birds when trees are not yet green and fully leafed and their yellow budded branches Shh the breeze.

Maybe sun-tipped blossoms carried on the backs of birds pink winter grasses at dawn. A rose halo mist circles my lips as I watch fish kiss the surface of ponds from underneath.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

There is Something

Perhaps there is something out there that loves you, that at night searches for you, like a past life desperately desiring the continuation of itself.

Maybe that something radiates outward in every direction, yet you can only detect it by focusing your sensitive apparatus, much as a distant sound willingly enters the asymmetrical gold-rimmed ears of an awaiting owl. I wonder why there is no category for things we experience without noticing – things that dart through the sparkling waters of our bodies much as birds flock into the long white sky to escape our counting.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Reflections (guest post by Cyndi Lloyd)

Perhaps fog is a temporary blinder that prevents me from seeing my surroundings – a veil shrouding the outside world in haze and silence.  I look inward and become reflective.  Once lifted, I pay attention and notice things I hadn't seen before.

Maybe on a cold evening, before the sun goes down, blemishes of dirty snow expose a beauty that has always existed – in a puddle of grassy water, a reflection of Gidget’s sweet face just before she takes a drink.