Winter winds sweep into green growth from the last spring snows.
Under the light shadows dancing above, the darkness shakes.
The whip tail of exhaustion creeps into a stimulated process, of relaxing for pleasure.
Stargazing fog drifts in, blurring the grounded sky into cloud.
Somewhere in the grey lies a silver streak, a vein of rapid passion to create.
Struggling to match the focus of the moment, swinging hammer, cutting line….and wanting to write.
Telephone rings regular, messages adding up to a social animal unleashed.
The morale meter blinks, coaching myself to use less words, an intensity coiled.
When the puppy curls stops chewing bamboo, finds his tail, and closes his eyes.
“Apple pie in the sky, then you die, my o my, by and by”
In a dream taking a sauna every day.
Learning to pray and having a fluid sway.
Figuring on what to think, and how to feel.
Finding freedom in fortified balance.
A fence of happiness looks like what? How big is the gate? What runs over the archway? How was it made?
With the withered boards of yesterdays cat piss, cut into a cloud of dusted taints.
Since the ugliness is necessary it will be there ever present, lingering in the dark of the trellis arms.
Under the swinging hinges a stone then a path, in a direction of words.
With money a blind second to pursuit of worthy efforts.
Fail disappoint try, opportunity awake and exhausted.
Fix make teach learn share, and take care.