I find few moments more soothing
Than a cool, grey day
Whose listless breezes stir a gentle rain
Droplets patter pane and sill
And I, warm and dry
With a steaming mug
Turn the pages of a book
Offering scant attention to its contents
I find few moments more soothing
Than a cool, grey day
Whose listless breezes stir a gentle rain
Droplets patter pane and sill
And I, warm and dry
With a steaming mug
Turn the pages of a book
Offering scant attention to its contents
All lines of inquiry converge
On a distant portal of glass
Beyond which a tunnel continues
Deeper than I can see
Offering a promise of The Infinite
A burst of colour
Breathes life
Into a space
Of regimental order
The beauty I imbue
On moments and places
Of small consequence
Arises from my appreciation
For the beauty in all things
There was a small crack
Which let the light in
Amber and warm
To dispel the gloomy darkness
But left the shadows
So I could see both
Where I was going
And where I’d come from
I drive past the sign with a chuckle. Then realize I need to turn back for this photograph.
It occurred to me some time ago that paradise is not a place on a map, but a state of being. For me, it seems obvious, that state of being involves movement… though, often, a metaphorical interpretation works just fine.
Me: Hey Google, avoid highways.
Google: OK. Avoiding highways.
Me: WTF Google!?
Me… again: Google, avoid dirt roads.
Google: I do not understand that request.
Me: Mmmfph.
Every now and again
CTL ALT DEL
Emptied fruit crates
For a mattress
Battered and broken stool
For a pillow
A bed unfit
For the delicate senses
And sensibilities
Of a princess
Ah
But for a king?
Ample slumber
In deepest repose