Ten Things We All Say Without Thinking...
What a sunny day.
I didn’t sleep a wink.
Oh what a beautiful morning.
The grass is growing like a weed.
When’s the best time to see the fall colors?
This bench is rock hard.
That fabric is soft as silk.
Oh my God: the water’s freezing!
And as an added plus, the property includes a babbling brook.
Let’s go watch the sunset together.
Ten Things We Might Think Without Saying...
The sun can do us in but she is the mother of all things living.
Why do unwelcome anxieties and regrets rob us of the sleep of dreams?
Can no one invent a device that can capture the burnished glow of the sun’s rays on water at dawn?
What secrets live in the foothills of tall grass?
Is it possible to live without the enlightened sadness of autumn’s transit across time?
Have you ever noticed the way rocks push back at you without warning?
Can any one of us read the autobiography of each and every silk worm, written invisibly along each and every thread?
I believe cold water doesn’t have a name for it’s true nature.
Scientists refuse to say but poets insist we concede the insensitivity of rushing water. The way it pushes, tumbles, co-opts and swallows everything in its path, never even looking back to second guess itself.
The evening sky calls out to us: “If you hurry, you can come along.”
