Your words lift me up and take me along on a journey,

To a place I might not otherwise go....what a journey.

I say, Take me along, I shall be a companion in my mind when I can not be in my person.

I love to travel the wind and air,

Off somewhere with nary a care,

But the actual grounding of my thoughts.

For when I am grounded, I think not pleasant things.

But the reality of the harsh, cruel world we are becoming.

Instead of what nature has always tried to bring us, give us in its entirety.

Why can man not leave nature as it is?

Why can not woman speak out against his cruel treatment of nature.

And be heard. Some mighty men care lots. Let them be heard as well.

So you see where my thoughts lead and depressing as they are,

This is what I am thinking on a daily basis now.

Look sweetly to the good things happening, but they are far and few between.

I must look for them in the daily life of things.

I must look to the light and think positively on the people working towards that light.

I must think about what good things will happen to my friend in a hospital far away.

How her life will be yet another wonderful chapter in her creative endeavor.

I must think that there is a reason for everything,

I must become a believer in the positive posture of everything.

Each day is filled with the surprise of a new challenge.
It is ours to choose most of the time and we do.
To choose at least in how we begin and end that day.
Work fills much of it. We can choose to like the work,
Or we can choose to dislike the work.
But work It is. And it is all ours.
Each new day brings the steadiness of a new perspective.
We can see it at different angles, different degrees of separation.
Different emotions at how we approach the challenge.
Life, play whatever it be.

Front Porch

Front Porch

I am sitting on that porch of that cabin.
The night noises echo through the dark,
They are a comfort to me at my age.
They are not so to every living creature,
A coyote runs past in a flash, fluffy tail, fluffy body.
The prey animal must watch for the predator, always.
The feral cats disappear all at once in a flash.
I will not think about that this night, we are all prey to those that be.
One must grow a frog skin and repel the ugly thoughts and deeds.
One must think about the good of those that care.
Another night on the mountain of my day dreams.
A long many years spent on that mountain.
I have been fortunate in my living places.
I chose always to live near nature, in the wild places.
The wild places in both my mind and my actual.
I do not want to leave these wild places.
Ever, do I dream to stay, the wild calls, the call of the wild.

A little story:

There was once a little soul who lived in a hole in the wide old oak.

She never spoke, she never spoke, but dreamed and when she woke,

She realized that her tongue was gone.

She left the oak, and went looking for her words,

Where could they be THOUGHT she and she traveled first to the WILLOW TREE,

Near the CABIN in the WOODS and looked there, looked for the COLORFUL words.

No one lived in the OLD CABIN as it had been abandoned many YEARS.

She looked in the CHAIR, and UNDER the bed.

She looked in the MIRROR over her HEAD.

She looked with PLEASURE, she looked with DREAD.

She picked up the MANY WORDS and CARRIED them HOME.

For here were a FEW, and ENOUGH, she said.

The next morning her tongue had returned.

She breathed in deeply knowing full well what she had learned.

Hatari

I watched Hatari last night.
John Wayne not at his best....his worst.
Killing his way through the African savanna.
Decades later we see what the taking of the wild beasts,
Has done to the the animals themselves.
Put in zoos and other like places for our pleasure.
The animal psyche not considered at all.
Monkeys pulled from their families, put in cages, tested,
poked at, laughed at, torchered,
God only know what else.
All for our pleasure and expense.

What is wrong with MAN.

Ravens

Words, black on a white page.
 small words, large words, long, short, capitals.
lower case letters piling up on white page.
What are they spelling out, a spiral, a line.
Thoughts, paralyzing those who read them.
Like crows they travel together, black against the light sky.
Like ravens they are not silent. Caw, and knock, chork, caw.
Like crows, up and down on a line....caw, caw, knock, chork.
Words, cutting, smoothing, biting, stabbing, glossing.
Words, sometimes truthful, sometimes............. not.
Time. to. take. tommy. to. town. tuesday. thursday. today.
Ravens glide swiftly across the day sky, in pairs, alone,
They fly jump from pine tree to fir tree, caw, caw, knock, Chork.

The day after the longest election of the Nasty woman.

I sit and wonder the why of things......
Out of my control, out of whack........
 Nov 9, 16.....a day to get through.
Out to nowhere, tucked in bed,
Head buried under the pillow.
Sunny skies, cold blue day.
Why do some men hate women so.
They want them helpless, subservient.
They want them for their own, to control,
to own, to master over. They want them.
They hate them, and yet possess them.
A strong woman a force to reckon with.